


War Children

by Shmiggles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Susan Bones, Boarding School, Canon Compliant, Charms Class (Harry Potter), Diagon Alley, Discovery, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Friendship, Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Next Generation, History of Magic Class (Harry Potter), Hogwarts, Hogwarts Express, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Muggle/Wizard Relations, Muggles, Mystery, Not Pottermore Compliant, Orphanage, Post-Canon, Potions Class (Harry Potter), Professor Neville Longbottom, Secret Identity, The Sorting Hat, Trains, Transfiguration (Harry Potter), Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29071293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shmiggles/pseuds/Shmiggles
Summary: Purity Carrow is a perfectly ordinary eleven-year-old girl, except that her parents died when she was a baby. Growing up in a care home in the North-West of England, Purity isn't sure what her future holds, but doesn't expect anything exciting, until she receives a visit offering her a place at a very prestigious school indeed. But once she's at Hogwarts, Purity starts to wonder if there's more to the story of how she ended up in care...
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

In hindsight, Auror Cadet Susan Bones wasn’t sure that this was the best attire for this particular task, but she supposed it was a little late now. The standard uniform of the female Auror—fitted black jacket with side fastening and gold accoutrements, ankle length skirt with gold leg stripe, and gold-trimmed black cloak emblazoned with the badge of the Corps of Aurors over her heart—was somewhat conspicuous as she walked up from Apparition Point in the town railway station up to the town of Lancaster itself.

Susan’s precious cargo shifted in her arms, and her attention returned to the task at hand. The baby’s name was Purity Carrow, and less than an hour had elapsed since the Wizengamot had handed down its life sentences to the poor child’s parents for their rôles in Voldemort’s reign of terror. Born during their tenures as teaching staff at Hogwarts, Purity had been named for her parents’ cause and calling in life.

Susan recalled the look of discomfort on Harry’s face—or Lord Potter, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, as he was now known to the press—as more eminent minds than hers had deliberated on Purity’s fate. It had been quickly established that the sins of the parents must not be visited on the daughter; that Purity should be given as normal a childhood as possible. It took nearly as little time to establish that such a childhood could not be secured within magical society: the mistreatment of the young witches and wizards of Hogwarts School had touched a particular nerve with the population, and so the Carrows’ trial had attracted particular attention with the press. Perhaps Harry had drawn a parallel between the plan for Purity and his own childhood.

Susan’s determined strides through the old town of Lancaster ceased. She looked upwards to read the sign on the building, and saw that she was at the right place.

She took a breath. She might not be the slightest bit prejudiced, but the fact remained that Susan Bones was a Pureblood, and despite having strong friendships with Muggleborns at Hogwarts, knew very little about Muggles themselves. But she had been given a task—her first task unsupervised—and so Susan would not only do it, but do it well.

* * *

The first thing that Susan noticed about the place was its overwhelming greyness. The thin, dull carpet that covered the entire floor was grey. The chairs for people to wait in were grey. The walls were white, but due to the strange light that filled the place, they seemed grey. The light itself came from fittings set into the grey ceiling. The colours of the plants and their terracotta pots that were placed in odd corners seemed muted. Strangest of all, the people in the place seemed grey as well.

It only took a moment for Susan to get her bearings in the place, but she felt that it still took too long. She was, after all, training to be an Auror. She approached the counter, and waited.

The middle-aged woman behind the glass pane didn’t even look up. ‘You’ll have to get a ticket,’ she said.

‘I’m sorry,’ Susan stammered, ‘a ticket?’

‘From the machine,’ the woman answered tonelessly. She pointed back towards the door.

‘I see,’ Susan said, trying to mask her worry. ‘Thank you.’

Still carrying Purity, Susan walked back towards the door, and saw the machine that the woman was referring too. It was a box, sitting on the floor, about chest-high, and on its front were a number of labels, each with a disc of rubber next to it.

Susan read the labels, and decided that ‘Child Welfare’ best described her visit to the Lancashire County Council Social Care office. But how did she operate the machine?

Perhaps she had to speak to it? No, Muggle machines were usually mechanical, weren’t they? She eyed the rubber disc next to the label. Perhaps she had to press it?

Gingerly, Susan raised her fingertip to the disc. It felt soft, and gave slightly under the pressure of her finger. It felt like it was intended to be pushed.

Susan pressed the disc. It gave about a quarter of an inch, and then there was a click. She withdrew her finger quickly—had she broken the machine?

There was a whirring sound, and a slip of paper appeared from a slot below the labels. Susan took it and read:

> Lancashire County Council
> 
> Social Care
> 
> **37**
> 
> Please wait until your number is called.

Well that was it, she’d successfully used the machine! Susan looked around gleefully, relishing her success, and wondered what to do next. _Please wait until your number is called._ Well, that explained the rows of chairs. Susan went and sat down.

As she sat, Purity stirred, looked up at Susan blearily, and then drifted back off to sleep.

Susan sat and waited. It was a good thing that Purity was contented to sleep, because Susan wouldn’t have had the faintest idea what to do if she had wanted anything. Susan was an only child, and her cousins. . . Well, their fate was well known. This was the first time she’d ever held a baby, and she didn’t have anyone here to tell her what to do if anything happened. On top of that, she was all alone in the Muggle world, in a Muggle government building—

‘Number 37,’ a pleasant voice called throughout the building, ‘Number 37, please go through the doors at the back of the foyer. Number 37, please.’

Carefully, so as not to disturb Purity, Susan stood and did as she was told. Before she could reach the door, it opened, and a young woman stepped out.

‘Number 37?’ the woman asked kindly.

‘Yes,’ Susan answered, returning the woman’s smile.

The woman’s gaze dropped to Susan’s attire, and the smile became a little more fixed. ‘Come through,’ she said.

Susan nodded, and did as she told. Beyond the door was a staircase, and as Susan followed the woman upwards, she reflected that she really ought to have found something more Muggle to wear, something like the fitted jacket and skirt the woman in front of her wore. At least she had left her hat in the office.

Once they reached the top of the staircase, the woman led Susan through a maze of corridors—not unlike those at Hogwarts, but narrower, shorter, tighter, featureless and soulless—and finally into a small office. The woman sat down behind the desk, and invited Susan to sit opposite her.

‘Well, I suppose I should introduce myself,’ the woman said, ‘I’m Nicola, and I’m a caseworker with Social Care.’

‘Susan Bones,’ Susan replied, ‘I’m from the Auror Office. We’re a specialist unit within the Home Office. Sorry about the uniform, I know it’s strange, but I didn’t have time to change.’

‘I see,’ Nicola said, clearly mystified. ‘I assume you’re here about—’ She broke off, but looked pointedly at Purity, still nestled in Susan’s arms.

‘Yes,’ Susan said, slowly reaching forward to place Purity on the desk. ‘This is Purity Carrow, her parents are’—she paused, forcing herself to tell the official lie—‘deceased.’

‘I see,’ Nicola said again, but seemed to believe herself this time, ‘and you’re handing her into our care?’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Susan said, glad that this was going well. ‘She has no surviving family, and we felt it best that she grow up here, since the Carrows were a Lancastrian family.’

‘All right, then,’ Nicola said, ‘do you have any documentation, such as a birth certificate for Purity?’

‘No,’ Susan said quickly, ‘I’m afraid it was, uh, destroyed.’ That was another lie; Purity’s birth certificate was very much extant, but Susan could hardly hand over a birth certificate issued by the Ministry of Magic, could she?

‘Hmm,’ Nicola said, ‘that’s going to make things a little more tricky. Do you happen to know the circumstances of Purity’s birth?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Susan answered, ‘8 October, 1997.’

Nicola started tapping away at a small, beige machine sitting on her desk. She wasn’t looking at the machine though, she was looking at a much larger machine, of a similar beige, that rose from the desk top to her eye height. After a minute or so, she looked back to Susan. ‘Place of birth?’

‘Hogsmeade, Shire of Inverness, Scotland,’ Susan answered.

More tapping at the machine. After a few moments, Nicola looked back at Susan. ‘There isn’t a Hogsmeade anywhere in the United Kingdom.’

‘Ah,’ Susan said. She ought to have seen this coming. ‘That’s where she was born,’ she said weakly.

Nicola paused. ‘Well, I suppose I can leave that blank, then,’ she said. ‘Mother’s name?’ she asked.

‘Alecto Carrow,’ Susan answered.

‘Mother’s occupation?’

Susan thought of so-called Muggle Studies classes, of being strung up in the dungeons, of torture. ‘None,’ she said.

More tapping at the machine. ‘Father’s name—if you know—?’

‘Amycus Carrow, with a “y”,’ Susan answered.

‘Father’s occupation?’

‘None.’ It was easier this time; she had been expecting it.

More tapping. ‘Mother’s maiden name?’

‘Carrow.’

Nicola gave Susan a piercing look. ‘Alecto Carrow was born a Carrow?’

‘Yes,’ Susan answered, her voice quiet. She knew where this was going.

‘Any relation between the parents?’

Susan paused. It had been shocking to hear about it during the investigation, but now Susan had to say it out loud. ‘Siblings,’ she whispered.

The two women looked at each other, across the desk. Still asleep, Purity sniffed.

‘Parents’ dates of birth?’ Nicola finally asked.

‘17 July, 1974,’ Susan answered.

‘Was that Alecto or Amycus?’ Nicola asked.

Susan looked at the floor. ‘Both,’ she said quietly.

‘Twins?’

Susan nodded.

They fell silent again, looking down at the sleeping child.

Nicola returned from her reverie, and started tapping away at the machine again. ‘All right, I just need some information about you, then,’ she said.

Susan nodded.

‘You’re Susan Bones?’ Nicola asked.

Susan nodded again to indicate her confirmation.

‘Which agency do you represent again?’

‘The Auror—A-U-R-O-R—Office. We’re part of the Home Office.’

More tapping. ‘Contact details?’

Susan gave Nicola the address of a post office box in Westminster, which the Muggle Monitoring Service used for interacting with the rest of Her Majesty’s Government.

‘Telephone number and email address?’

Susan knew that there were no telephones in the Ministry, and she didn’t even know what an “email” was. ‘Sorry, I can’t give you either of those,’ she said, ‘we have strict security requirements.’

Nicola nodded uncertainly.

‘But any correspondence to the postal address marked to the attention of the Auror Office will get top priority.’

There was a pause. ‘Well, that’s all that we require for you, for the moment,’ Nicola said with an air of finality. ‘Little Purity here is now in our care.’

‘Thank you,’ Susan said, smiling, and taking her cue to stand. ‘Hopefully she can have a normal childhood.’

‘We’ll do our best,’ Nicola said, returning Susan’s smile, but with an edge of determination to her voice.


	2. Humble Origins

The harsh tocsin of the mechanical bell pierced the silence. Purity looked up from her exercise book at Mrs. Bunn. Some of the braver children started to pack their work away.

‘Well then, children,’ Mrs. Bunn’s soft voice carried over the surruptitious rustling of stationery, ‘that’s that then. Kindly pack your things away and stand behind your seats.’

On most Friday afternoons, this would have been done with more eagerness than usual. On this particular Friday afternoon, it was barely ten seconds before the thirty-odd children in Mrs. Bunn’s class were waiting quietly.

Mrs. Bunn smiled. ‘This is the end, Year 6. Come September, you’ll all be off to secondary school. I wish you well, but I don’t need to. I know you’ll all do well. Off you go, then.’

Amongst a chorus of, ‘Thank you, Miss,’ ‘Have a nice summer, Miss,’ and the odd, ‘See you next year, Miss,’ Purity made her way out of the classroom and down the corridor. Around her, her classmates chatted happily about their plans for the upcoming summer, but no one talked to Purity. Alone in the crowd, she weaved and wended her way through the corridors, down the path, out the front gate of Great Wood Primary School.

Mothers milled about the gate, ready to take their children home for six weeks of summer holidays. Again, Purity made her way through the jumble of people and excitement, speaking to no one. As she made her way down the street of neatly-kept bungalows, Purity wondered whether her mother would have come to collect her from school, had she been alive. Would she have had a younger sibling or two to lead through the throng?

But these questions couldn’t hold Purity’s attention for long. These questions had passed through her mind so many times that she almost instantly arrived at their inevitable conclusion: there was no answer.

Purity Carrow’s parents were dead, and that’s all there was to the matter.

She walked along in silence, staring at the pavement, kicking a small pebble.

‘There she is,’ said a cruel voice from behind her.

Purity glanced over her shoulder to see Tammy Lucas, Samantha O’Neill and Michaela McMahon striding determinedly towards her. Without a second thought, Purity began to run, rounding the corner into Bare Lane. She didn’t stop until she got to the bus stop.

Tammy Lucas was the prettiest girl in Purity’s year—at least on the outside. All the children knew that Purity was an orphan, and that she was in care, but Tammy decided that that was a Bad Thing, and so Samantha and Michaela decided it was too. Back in Year 3, Miss. Kelly had told them to write a letter to their parents when their parents had been in Year 3, and Tammy loudly pointed out that Purity didn’t know her parents. Purity turned red at Tammy’s smug grin, but it was Purity’s turn to grin as soon as Tammy opened her pencil case to start, and found that all of her pencils were now orange—her least favourite colour. Tammy had hated Purity ever since.

Purity stopped to check for traffic on Bare Lane before crossing the road, and made her way along Fairhope Avenue. The Children’s Home wasn’t far along the street. The back garden faced onto the railway line, just where the points where. Sometimes, she was woken in the night by trains clacking their way to Morecombe or to somewhere far more exotic.

She walked up the garden path, knocked on the door, and waited patiently.

‘Oh, hullo there, Purity,’ Angela said as she opened the door. ‘You’re home early. Didn’t stop to chat with anyone?’

As she walked inside and closed the door behind her, Purity shook her head. ‘Nicole’s in hospital again,’ she said.

Angela tutted sympathetically. ‘Poor thing,’ she said. ‘Hopefully she’ll be out again soon. In the meantime, you’re the first home, so you get first slice of the cake I’ve baked to celebrate the start of summer.’

* * *

A slice of cake and a cup of tea later found Purity sat on her bed in the bedroom she shared with Lily Smith. That was it; she was done with primary school; done with Great Wood. In six weeks, she was off to Morecambe High School. Mercedes, who was three years older than Purity and already at Morecambe High, said that it was much bigger than Great Wood Primary. Maybe Tammy and her friends wouldn’t be able to find Purity in the crowd.

Maybe she’d make some friends other than Nicole. Not that there was anything _wrong_ with Nicole—they told each other _everything_ —but Nicole was in hospital a lot.

Purity wasn’t popular at school. The other children seemed to be a bit scared of her. The worst thing was that Purity wasn’t sure whether it was her fault.

The incident with Tammy’s pencils turning orange was a bit strange. Tammy had somehow decided that it was Purity’s fault, just because Purity had been the last person that Tammy had spoken to. It was the first strange incident, but by no means the last. Matthew Osborne had accidentally kicked a football at Purity’s head, and it was completely deflated by the time it hit the ground. On their way to get changed for a Games lesson, Will Clegg had made a joke about Nicole not being able to participate, and ten minutes later emerged from the boys’ changing room still in his school uniform: his PE uniform had somehow disappeared from his bag, despite him watching his mother pack it that morning.

Purity’s life was dotted with these strange little coincidences that seemed to crop up whenever she was wronged. Maybe her parents were watching over her from beyond.

There was a faint growling sound in the distance. A train was coming. The sound grew louder and louder; if the window had been open, it would have been deafening.

‘Hi, Purity,’ a voice said behind her.

Purity jumped about a foot in the air from where she had been sitting on her bed. Over the noise of the train, she hadn’t heard Lily come in.

‘Lily! You gave me a fright,’ she said, out of shock rather than anger.

‘Sorry,’ Lily said, but she didn’t seem particularly apologetic. ‘It’s the holidays!’ she exclaimed.

‘Yes,’ Purity said, a little wearily. It wasn’t as though Purity wasn’t looking forwards to the holidays; it was just that Lily was in—no, had just finished—Year 2, so just about _everything_ was still exciting to her. Still, Purity decided, she couldn’t be grumpy for the holidays. ‘What are you looking forward to?’ she asked the younger girl.

Lily seemed stumped at this one. ‘The cinema,’ she said, ‘and we can go to the seaside!’

‘We live in Morecambe,’ Purity observed affectionately. ‘We’re always at the seaside.’

‘Yeah, but it’s summer, it’ll actually be _nice_ now.’

Purity conceded that Lily did have a point. ‘What film do you want to see?’ she asked.

Lily paused for thought. ‘I’m not sure. Let’s go ask Angela what’s on.’

* * *

Purity and Lily emerged from their bedroom and made their way down the hall to the kitchen. Angela was sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a slice of cake, poring over the crossword.

Purity and Lily paused at the threshold. ‘Let’s let her be,’ Purity whispered.

‘Why?’ Lily asked, equally quietly.

‘She’s stuck with us for the whole summer,’ Purity whispered back.

‘That’s her job,’ Lily grumbled under her breath, stepping forwards into the kitchen. ‘Angela?’ she asked.

‘Hmmm?’ Angela said, absent-mindedly, looking up from her crossword. ‘What is it, girls?’

‘Can we go to the cinema?’ Lily asked.

Angela tilted her head in a way that Purity knew well. ‘I’m not sure, girls,’ she said, ‘but I’ve got another copy of the paper here, so you can have a look at what’s on, and once Sarah and Mercedes and Lexi are back, we can all work out what we want to do over the summer.’

Lily squealed in excitement, took the offered newspaper from Angela’s hand, and ran into the sitting room to examine it.

‘Sorry,’ Purity said. ‘I wanted to give you a bit of peace and quiet. . .’

Angela chuckled softly. ‘Peace and quiet? I’m doing the wrong job for that!’ She paused for a moment, and looked down at the newspaper. ‘Period working out in southern lakes,’ she murmured, and looked up at Purity. ‘Any ideas?’

Purity shook her head apologetically.

Angela smiled. ‘Not to worry,’ she said. ‘Run along and help Lily decide what film she wants to see.’

‘Okay,’ Purity said, and left Angela to the peace and quiet that Purity had intended for her in the first place. In the sitting room, Lily had already spread the newspaper out on the coffee table and was poring over the cinema listings.

* * *

It was Tuesday morning, and Purity was packed into the back of Angela’s people carrier. The cinema sold cheap tickets on Tuesdays.

Angela looked over her shoulder. ‘Seat belts on, everyone?’ she asked.

‘Yes, Angela,’ the girls in her chorused in response.

‘Well, then,’ Angela said, sounding a little put out at the unanimity of the response, ‘let’s set off then.’ She started the engine and reversed out of the drive.

Purity looked out of the window at the neatly sequestered bungalows as they went past. Each was home to a small family, the sort of family that Purity didn’t quite have. It wasn’t that she wasn’t cared for—Angela certainly made sure that their needs were attended to—but Purity just had Angela and the other girls. There weren’t any cousins who came to visit at Christmas time, and the girls who left once they reached adulthood rarely visited, and when they did, only came to visit Angela.

It wasn’t nothing, but it wasn’t the same.

Angela lurched her way around the roundabout and onto the main road up to Lancaster. Purity wasn’t sure that she liked Lancaster. Morecambe felt friendly, calm and relaxed, whereas Lancaster was big and old and serious. The older girls liked to go up to Lancaster and hang about at the shops—Purity wondered whether she, too, would want to hang around the shops in a few years. It made no sense to Purity, but Purity had learnt that lots of things went from making no sense to somehow making sense.

But these thoughts were soon driven from her mind by the inevitably harrowing experience of Angela trying to navigate the traffic and narrow streets of Lancaster town.

* * *

The film had been pretty good, although the older girls hadn’t agreed. That was to be expected—it had been Lily’s choice. On the other hand, lunch at Wimpy’s—a rare treat—had been rather more popular. But now, her belly filled with a burger and chips, Purity was squashed in the back of the people carrier again.

Purity tried to ignore the way her stomach turned every time Angela made some sudden adjustment to their speed or direction, and watched dully as the houses passed by.

It was a very familiar view, because Purity had never been anywhere except Lancaster, Morecambe, and, on a few occasions, down to Preston. As far as she knew, Purity had never been outside Lancashire.

But these thoughts were driven from Purity’s mind by a very sudden stop, even by the standards of Angela’s driving. Purity’s vision focused to see what was happening, and saw what the other occupants of the car had already seen: to people sitting on the low brick wall in front of the house.

‘Who’re they?’ Mercedes asked.

‘No idea,’ Angela said, slowly pulling into the driveway. ‘You lot stay in the car, and I’ll find out.’

She clearly seemed to think that the people may have posed some sort of a threat, but Purity couldn’t see how. They were a man and a woman, both blonde. The man had a kind, round face, and was wearing the sort of clothes wealthy people wore to go hunting: a three-piece tweed suit, with breeches instead of trousers, and brightly-coloured socks peeping over the top of olive-green Wellington boots. The woman looked serious and business-like, and was wearing a nondescript suit jacket and a skirt that stopped just below her knees. The woman looked like she was from some government agency, and the man. . . he just looked lost.

Angela parked the car, got out, and went to talk to the two strangers. As soon as the door shut, the girls started to speculate wildly about who the strangers were. Were they a couple looking to adopt? Were they from the Council? Were they from the NHS? Were they from Ofsted? They were all talking, and no one was listening, but within thirty seconds, Angela had opened the car door open and poked her head in. ‘It’s all right,’ she said, ‘I’ll let you all inside, but you all need to keep out of the kitchen.’

The girls all agreed, and tumbled out of the car towards the front door. Wearily, Angela locked the car and made her way through the throng to unlock the front door, while the strangers watched with some bemusement. As the girls hurried off to their rooms, the strangers followed Angela inside.

‘So, who do you think they are?’ Lily asked, as soon as their bedroom door was closed behind them, in a strange reversal of the discussions in the car.

‘I don’t know, but let’s see if we can hear anything,’ Purity answered, and Lily scurried over from her bed so they could both press their ears against the door.

‘Can you hear anything?’ Lily whispered after about seven seconds.

‘Shhh,’ Purity admonished, but she shook her head.

After another ten seconds, Purity gave up. ‘It’s no use,’ she said, ‘we can’t hear anything.’ She walked across the room and flopped onto her bed. ‘The film was good, though,’ she said.

Lily swallowed the distraction and immediately began a detailed monologue of everything she liked about the film.

* * *

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. ‘Purity,’ Angela’s voice said, ‘could you come out, please.’

‘Uh, okay,’ Purity said, standing up. She and Lily looked at each other, giving each other blank looks that clearly showed that neither of them knew what was happening.

Purity opened the door to see Angela who had a similarly confused look on her face. ‘Dr. Longbottom and, um, Miss Bones want to talk to you,’ she said.

‘Me?’ Purity asked.

Angela nodded.

Purity walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. She saw the man and the woman sitting at the table, each with a mug of tea in front of them. There was a plate of biscuits in the middle of the table.

‘Hello, Purity,’ the man said. ‘Have a seat.’

Purity nervously pulled the chair out and sat down.

The man continued to speak. ‘My name is Dr. Longbottom, and this is Auror Bones,’ he said, indicating the woman sitting next to him.

Auror Bones smiled tightly, as though it wasn’t something she did very often.

Angela came back into the kitchen, and walked towards the table, as though she was going to sit down at the remaining chair. Auror Bones’ face suddenly went alert and business like, and she seemed to grab at something in her pocket.

Angela stopped in her tracks. ‘Oh, er. . .’ she mumbled, ‘I’ll just go. . . outside.’

Purity noticed a faint humming sound, almost at the limit of her hearing. She looked at Dr. Longbottom and Auror Bones. ‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘What’s going on?’

Dr. Longbottom’s eyes widened in what was clearly a slight panic. ‘It’s unfortunate that we can’t tell Mrs. Dewhurst,’ he said, ‘but there are very strict secrecy laws about what we’re here to tell you.’

‘Secrecy laws?’ Purity asked. ‘What secrecy—’

‘Purity,’ Dr. Longbottom interrupted, ‘have you ever been in a situation where you were angry or upset, and something strange happened?’

Purity froze. _Tammy’s pencils._ ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, as evenly as she could, her heart hammering in her chest.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Dr. Longbottom said, ‘maybe someone at school said something unkind to you, and then something bad happened to them.’

Purity nodded slightly. ‘Tammy said something mean about my parents, and then all her pencils turned orange. And then Will Clegg’s PE kit disappeared. . .’

‘Do you know how those things happened?’ Dr. Longbottom asked.

Purity shook her head as she looked into his eyes. Did he know the secret to Purity’s unpopularity? Could he help her make friends at Morecambe High School?

‘It’s _magic_ ,’ he said, reaching into his pocket. ‘Magic is real, and there are people—wizards and witches—who can use it, and you’re one of them.’ He placed his hand on the table and opened, so Purity could see what he held: a carefully-made stick.

‘Magic?’ Purity asked, her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Auror Bones leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms, and smiled, clearly expecting some sort of show.

Dr. Longbottom curled his fingers around the stick and pointed it at the plate of biscuits. He tapped the stick on the plate and the plate turned into a hamster. He tapped the wand—it _had_ to be a wand—on the hamster, and it turned into a book. He tapped the wand on the book, and it turned back into the plate of biscuits.

‘Magic,’ Purity murmured, as Auror Bones reached forwards to take a biscuit. ‘I’m a—I’m—’

‘A witch,’ Dr. Longbottom said, ‘just like Auror Bones here, and I’m a wizard.’ He smiled.

Auror Bones nodded with a mouthful of biscuit.

Purity sat in a silent daze, letting it all wash over her.

‘And that brings me to the actual purpose of this visit,’ Dr. Longbottom said cheerily. He reached into his pocket and handed a heavy, yellow envelope to Purity. ‘To offer you a place to study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.’

The idea of magic was already too much, and now a _school_? Purity was frozen, overwhelmed by it all.

‘You can open it, you know,’ Auror Bones said, winking at Purity.

Auror Bones’ words seemed bring Purity back to reality. She opened the parchment envelope, and read the letter inside, confirming Dr. Longbottom’s words.

She looked up at Dr. Longbottom. ‘I want to go to Hogwarts,’ Purity said.

Dr. Longbottom and Auror Bones both smiled. ‘Wonderful!’ Dr. Longbottom said. ‘Now, as we said, everything to do with magic is kept very secret by law—if Muggles, that is, non-magical people, found out about magic, all hell would break loose. If you tell anyone about magic, you will be expelled from Hogwarts, and might go to prison too—do you understand?’

Purity nodded. ‘Wait,’ she said, ‘but what will I tell Angela and the girls here? They’ll ask straight away why I’m not going to Morecambe High School.’

‘Well,’ Dr. Longbottom said conspirationally, ‘how about you go and fetch Mrs. Dewhurst, and we’ll have a chat with her about how you’ve accepted our very kind offer of a full scholarship at a prestigious boarding school, and we’ll organise a time to take you to London to buy you your school things too.’

Purity didn’t respond, but leapt out of her chair, almost ran out to the back garden, and found Angela staring up at the sky. ‘Angela,’ she said breathlessly, ‘they’ve offered me a place at a boarding school, and I want to go!’

‘Hmmm?’ Angela said, slowly turning to look at Purity. ‘I’ll need to organise that with them then.’

* * *

Purity wasn’t sure what magic spell Dr. Longbottom and Auror Bones had put on Angela to make her confused, but she seemed back to her usual self by teatime. Purity, on the other hand, needed every bit of self-control she had to hide her excitement.

_She was a witch, and she was going to a school for magic!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is Neville Longbottom a doctor rather than a professor?
> 
> Rowling gives Harry Potter's year at Hogwarts just forty students. Multiplying this by the 150 years that Rowling has stated is the average wizard's life expectancy, and we optimistically have a magical population of just six thousand, which is clearly not viable, especially given the apparent scale of the Ministry of Magic.
> 
> My solution to this problem is to ascribe the small size of Harry's cohort to a falling birth rate during the first war, and to make an ordinary Hogwarts cohort have one hundred and sixty students, with forty (two small classes) in each house. This gives an optimistic population of twenty-four thousand, which is better, but still not especially viable.
> 
> To reach my target population of half a million, we need an additional twenty such schools. I would envisage Hogwarts as a magically selective school, by virtue of its ancient prestige, and the other schools being day schools that accept all other magical children, although all of these would have closed down during the canon novels, again due to a falling birth rate during the first war.
> 
> Of course, a Hogwarts with four times the students needs a correspondingly larger academic staff. In the novels, Hogwarts has just one teacher for each subject, each entitled to the title of 'professor'. American readers may be accustomed to the idea of all tenured academics in universities using the courtesy title 'professor', but in the Commonwealth, 'professor' is simply the highest in a hierarchy of academic ranks; an academic department within a university would only have a few professors, supported by 'associate professors' and many more 'lecturers' or 'readers' (not to mention the doctoral students employed as 'tutors', which are the equivalent of American 'TAs').
> 
> Of course, Hogwarts is not a university, but rather a secondary school, and by virtue of being 'more than a millennium old', we can safely position it within the tradition of 'cathedral schools', established in the latter half of the Anglo-Saxon rule of England. (These schools still exist; there are a dozen British schools that can match Hogwarts' claim to more than one thousand years of history.) Most of these are prestigious independent (read: private) schools, and thus refer to their teaching staff as 'masters' rather than 'teachers' (in some of the boys' schools, the affectionate term 'beaks' is used as well), and these teachers invariably have strong academic backgrounds, with most having doctoral degrees. (This is not purely snobbery; 'doctor' is Latin for 'teacher', and doctoral degrees were the original teaching qualifications.)
> 
> We have no suggestion of any magical universities in Rowling's work, so it would be reasonable to assign the title of 'professor' to heads of department at Hogwarts, and the title of 'doctor' to any other teaching staff.
> 
> It is also of interest to note that while the term was not used anywhere else in the novels, Severus Snape was introduced to the reader in a chapter entitled 'The Potions Master'. It seems reasonable to assume that this was not in reference to Snape's particular skill with potions, but rather as an allusion to the once-extensive genre of 'school novels' set in fictionalised variations of the aforementioned independent schools, a genre that the Harry Potter novels contribute to as a fantasy variation, and in which a small revival has been inspired by the popularity of the series.


	3. London

Purity’s eyes snapped open.

It was Friday morning, and it was. . . Purity turned her head to look at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table.

It was a little past six o’clock.

Brilliant. Only three more hours until Dr. Longbottom and Auror Bones would be coming to take Purity to London.

Purity rolled over. Maybe she would be able to go back to sleep.

* * *

The digital alarm clock changed from one minute to to right on seven o’clock, and Purity jumped out of bed as though she’d been electrified.

Lily made an indistinct sort of noise, but rolled over and went back to sleep.

Purity grabbed her towel and toiletry bag from under her bed, and made her way to the bathroom. She walked as carefully as she could, to avoid the floor creaking beneath its fitted carpet, because she didn’t want to wake anyone up.

* * *

Half an hour later, Purity was showered and dressed for the day, lying down on the sofa in the sitting room, and bored out of her mind. She supposed she could go into the kitchen and pour herself a bowl of cereal, but then she wouldn’t have anything to do for the remaining hour and a half.

She reached out to the coffee table to grab the telly remote, and turned it on. After quickly turning down the volume, she flicked through the channels, but there was nothing on, not even on CBBC.

* * *

Purity sat on the sofa, watching the clock on the mantlepiece. It was nearly nine o’clock.

Ten seconds left. . . nine. . . eight. . . seven. . . six. . . five. . . four. . . three. . . two. . . one. . .

_Knock, knock, knock._

Purity jumped up as though she were electrified.

The other girls stared at her, their attention drawn away from the morning news summary of the drama from last night’s reality show.

‘That’ll be your visitors, Purity,’ Angela’s voice called from the kitchen, followed by the sound of Angela’s chair scraping against the tiled floor.

‘Ooh,’ Megan said mockingly, ‘ _Purity’s_ visitors.’

Purity ignored them as she walked to the front door. They were just jealous—justifiably—that Purity had been offered a scholarship at some fancy boarding school. Imagine if they knew the truth!

By the time Purity got to the front door, Angela was already opening it. On the doorstep were Dr. Longbottom and Auror Bones.

Purity felt a loosening in her stomach, and realised that she’d just disspelled a fear that she’d been holding on to: that the whole thing was a dream. But here they were again, in the flesh.

‘Good morning, Mrs. Dewhurst,’ Dr. Longbottom said.

‘Oh, uh, good morning,’ Angela replied. She was clearly unsure about Dr. Longbottom and Auror Bones; they weren’t wearing the suits that they’d worn on Tuesday, but instead wore long robes. Auror Bones wore what looked like an old-fashioned military uniform in black with gold embellishments, covered by a similar cloak, whereas Dr. Longbottom wore the same three-piece tweed suit, but with shoes instead of gumboots, again covered by a matching cloak.

Dr. Longbottom sighed, and Auror Bones reached into her pocket and muttered something that sounded like, _‘Confundo!’_

Angela seemed to relax instantly. ‘Well, off you go, Purity,’ she said, sounding a million miles away.

Purity didn’t hesitate; she almost jumped through the doorway. ‘Hello!’ she exclaimed, remembering that she hadn’t greeted them yet.

‘Hello, indeed,’ said Dr. Longbottom. ‘I see you’re ready to go to London.’

‘Yep!’ Purity said. She looked around. ‘Where’s your car?’

Auror Bones chuckled.

‘We’ve got other ways of getting around,’ Dr. Longbottom said conspirationally. ‘Come on.’

They made their way down the street towards the railway station, Dr. Longbottom chatting with Purity about what she’d done in the week of summer holidays that she’d had so far, and Auror Bones followed along, not speaking, which seemed to Purity to be her usual way of being.

When Dr. Longbottom started to walk into Bare Lane Railway Station, Purity stopped. ‘I don’t think you can get a train to London from here,’ she said, ‘I think you have to go to Lancaster.’

Dr. Longbottom winked. ‘We’re not here to catch a train,’ he said, and walked onto the platform.

Purity and Auror Bones followed him onto the platform, but rather then buying a ticket from the machine, he walked along the wall of the station building, before stopping in front of a door. It had no sign, no keyhole, and no doorhandle.

Dr. Longbottom looked up and down the platform to make sure no one was watching, then pulled his want from his pocket and tapped it on the door.

The door swung open.

Purity followed Dr. Longbottom through the doorway into a room about the same size as the sitting room just up the street. This room, however, was very much out of place in this building; rather than matching the forbidding stonework outside, this room felt warm and cosy, with one wall covered in tilework forming an elaborate pattern, with an enamel sign bearing the legend ‘Bare Lane’ at its centre. On the opposite wall, there was a large fireplace, and hanging from the ceiling, a cast iron chandelier, holding real candles.

There was a slight _thud_ as the door shut behind Auror Bones.

‘What is this place?’ Purity asked.

‘This is the Bare Lane Apparition Point,’ Dr. Longbottom explained. ‘Every railway station in Britain has one. This is how wizards and witches travel around.’

He turned to the fireplace, pointed his wand at it, and said, ‘Incendio!’

A roaring fire appeared, crackling merrily, in the fireplace.

Purity stared at it. What else could magic do?

‘We’re going to travel to London using the Floo Network,’ Dr. Longbottom explained, ‘which is a sort of magical connection between fireplaces.’ He withdrew his hand from his pocket, to reveal that he was holding a small drawstring bag. ‘This is Floo powder,’ he continued, ‘and allows us to use the Floo Network. Auror Bones will go first, to show you how it works, then you can go, and I’ll follow along to make sure everything’s fine.’

He held the bag out to Auror Bones, who opened it and took a pinch of powder from the bag. She threw the powder into the fire.

The fire immediately turned green.

‘Watch carefully, Purity,’ Auror Bones said. ‘I’m about to step into the fire—which is perfectly safe—and then loudly and clearly state where I want to go.’ Auror Bones did indeed step into the fire, and turned around and smiled slightly to show that she was unharmed. Then, she said, ‘Ministry of Magic!’ and promptly disappeared.

The fire turned yellow again.

‘Make sense?’ Dr. Longbottom asked. ‘Powder in the fire, step in, say where you’re going.’

‘Did she say “Ministry of Magic”?’ Purity asked.

‘Yes,’ Dr. Longbottom said, ‘Auror Bones is now back where she works. But we need to go to the Leaky Cauldron.’

‘The Leaky Cauldron?’ Purity repeated.

‘The Leaky Cauldron,’ Dr. Longbottom confirmed. ‘It’s a pub that’s right next to the entrance to Diagon Alley, we’re we’ll go to get your school things.’

Purity nodded. She took some of the powder from the bag that Dr. Longbottom was still holding, and threw it into the fire. Again, the flames turned green.

Purity took a deep breath. She was about to step into a fire, and then do her first bit of intentional magic. She looked to Dr. Longbottom for reassurance, then took three short steps into the fireplace.

It wasn’t hot at all, just warm, like standing in front of a fire instead of within it. ‘The Leaky Cauldron!’ Purity said, and instantly felt like she was flying.

She was spinning, and moving through empty space. There was no floor or sky; there was only blackness, and small fires in the distance.

Just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Purity fell over and onto a wooden floor. She took a moment to regain her bearings, then rolled over, to see a roaring fire burning in a stone fireplace. She crawled away from the fire. It hadn’t been an especially pleasant experience.

The fire suddenly turned green, and Dr. Longbottom appeared in it, spinning. When he stopped spinning, he stepped out and the fire turned yellow again.

‘Made it safe and sound, then?’ he asked, extending an arm.

Purity nodded. She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet.

‘Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron,’ he said, and then added, ‘and London.’

Purity was still feeling a little shaken from travelling by Floo powder, so she simply nodded again.

Dr. Longbottom walked around the corner, so Purity followed, and saw the familiar scene of a rural pub. Small tables filled the room, and there was a small bar off to the side. The people, on the other hand, didn’t look quite so familiar; like Dr. Longbottom, they wore robes and cloaks, and many were puffing on pipes.

Purity followed Dr. Longbottom towards the bar.

‘Hullo, Nev,’ a woman’s voice called.

‘Hullo, Hannah,’ Dr. Longbottom replied to the woman behind the bar.

The woman was blonde, like Dr. Longbottom and Auror Bones, but whereas Auror Bones had been curt and thin, this woman was curvy and cheery. ‘And you must be Purity,’ the woman added.

‘This is my wife,’ Dr. Longbottom said by way of explanation.

‘Nice to meet you, Mrs. Longbottom,’ Purity said.

‘And you,’ Mrs. Longbottom said, smiling. She turned back to Dr. Longbottom. ‘Steak and kidney pie and chips for dinner,’ she said. ‘Well, I won’t keep you. Enjoy Diagon Alley,’ she added to Purity.

Dr. Longbottom led Purity past the bar and through a door into a small courtyard. There was nothing there but a few rubbish bins, enclosed within a brick wall. Dr. Longbottom withdrew his wand from his pocket and tapped a few bricks on the wall.

The bricks started to wriggle and move, and soon rearranged themselves into a neat archway.

‘Welcome to Diagon Alley,’ Dr. Longbottom said, ‘Magical Britain’s prime shopping street.’

They walked through the archway, and onto a cobbled street. The street was lined with shops, housed in buildings that could only have been held up by magic. The street meandered into the distance, and was filled with crowds of people who, much like the people inside the Leaky Cauldron, were dressed in extravagant colours.

Purity struggled to take it all in.

‘Did you bring your Hogwarts letter with you?’ Dr. Longbottom asked.

Purity fished it out of her jeans pocket. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘here it is.’

‘Great,’ Dr. Longbottom said. ‘Get the equipment list out, and we can start shopping.’

Purity pulled the sheet of parchment out, and found that there was a second sheet she hadn’t noticed in her excitement on Tuesday. Her eyes ran eagerly over the list of things she’d need. ‘Um, Dr. Longbottom?’ she asked nervously.

‘Yes?’ he answered.

‘How much is all of this going to cost? Because, um, I don’t have any money.’

Dr. Longbottom smiled. ‘Yes, Mrs. Dewhurst did say that the money from Social Care is a little tight, but not to worry; Hogwarts has a special fund for those in need. Money won’t be much of a problem for us today.’

Purity nodded.

‘Well, we’ve a lot to buy today,’ Dr. Longbottom said cheerily, ‘so we should probably buy a trunk to put everything in first.’ He started off down the street, and Purity followed.

There was so much going on, and so many magical things to see, that Purity couldn’t work out which way to look, and she wasn’t able to take any of it in: she’d only just started to make sense of one thing before something else immediately came into view. There were shops selling books; shops selling owls; shops selling horrible slimy things for making potions; shops selling broomsticks. . . It seemed endless.

Dr. Longbottom stopped outside a small shop. The window only had room for a single trunk; it looked a little faded, and its leather covering was starting to crack. The sign above the door read ‘Flint Luggage and Storage’.

Inside the shop, there was a narrow walkway leading to a counter at the back; the rest of the shop was crammed full of trunks and packing cases. A tiny gas lantern hanging from the ceiling was the only source of light apart from the window. Purity felt a little claustrophobic in the tiny shop, but Dr. Longbottom walked confidently to the counter. Just as he reached it, a curtain behind the counter was pulled to the side, and a man stepped around it.

‘Ah, Dr. Longbottom,’ the man said, with a slight tone of distaste in his voice. ‘Another one for Hogwarts?’ The man—wizard, Purity supposed—was wearing rather plain-looking robes, which were patched in places. He was very tall, and looked like he’d been carved crudely from stone. His hair was thinning, and he looked like he wasn’t eating well.

‘Yes, that’s right, Mr. Flint,’ Dr. Longbottom said pleasantly. ‘But we need something a little special this time. A standard size trunk, but with a Charm on it. Not exactly a Muggle-Repelling Charm, but a specialiesd Persuasion Charm, one that would prevent a Muggle from having a look inside.’

Mr. Flint looked a little happier at this request. ‘Ah, yes, we do have one or two of those,’ he said, ‘but I’m afraid that is, as you say, a rather specialised item, and priced accordingly. . .’

‘Of course, of course,’ Dr. Longbottom said diplomatically, ‘but those are out requirements, so pay we must.’

Mr. Flint squeezed around the end of the counter, and Purity and Dr. Longbottom had to back towards the shop door so that Mr. Flint could find the right trunk amongst the stacks. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled back and forth a bit to find the right one, and then stood up. He waved his wand at the trunk, and it slid out into the walkway from the bottom of a stack; the four trunks sitting on top of it slowly floated down to the floor to take its place.

‘That’ll be two galleons and eight sickles,’ Mr. Flint said.

Dr. Longbottom ignored him, and tapped the lid of the trunk with his hand. Then, he opened it and tapped the sides, before pointing his wand at it and muttering something under his breath. Apparently satisfied, he made a lazy swish with his wand, and the trunk closed itself. ‘Excellent,’ he said, and took some gold and silver coins from his pocket and counted them out into Mr. Flint’s outstretched hand.

‘Thank you, Doctor,’ Mr. Flint said.

‘And thank you, Mr. Flint,’ Dr. Longbottom said.

It took a few minutes for Purity and Dr. Longbottom to get the trunk out of the tiny shop, but Purity did rather like it once she could see it out in the daylight. It had a sort of old-fashioned look, rather like everything else on Diagon Alley. ‘Mr. Flint didn’t seem very happy,’ she said.

‘No,’ Dr. Longbottom said. ‘He’s from a family that believes that wizards and Muggles shouldn’t mix, and that Muggleborns—wizards and witches who have Muggle parents—have somehow stolen their magic from Pureblooded wizards and witches, who can trace their magical ancestries back for centuries. It’s all nonsense of course, but those views have made the people who hold them rather unpopular.’

‘Oh,’ Purity said. It all sounded rather complicated.

‘Don’t worry about that, it doesn’t really matter,’ Dr. Longbottom said bracingly. ‘How about we go over to Madam Malkin’s and get your uniform?’

Madam Malkin was a short, elderly witch whose shop was filled with rolls upon rolls of cloth. ‘Hogwarts, dear?’ she asked as soon as she saw Purity, and then said, ‘Oh yes, of course,’ when she saw Dr. Longbottom.

It wasn’t like going to Sainsbury’s to buy a uniform for primary school. No, Purity had to stand on a little stool while Madam Malkin’s measuring tape took her measurements by itself and the witch herself fetched a bolt of black wool cloth. But the fact that the sewing needles were Charmed to sew the seams of her robes by themselves meant that the whole process went by rather quickly.

Once Purity’s robes and cloak were made, and gloves and a hat in the appropriate size found, Dr. Longbottom paid for them and Madam Malkin, with a wave of her wand, folded them and placed them neatly inside Purity’s new trunk.

Next, they visited Hamilton’s Bookshop; as Dr. Longbottom said apologetically, ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to get your books second-hand, but the book list hasn’t changed for a few years now, so we’ll have a good choice.’

The bookshop was much larger than the trunk shop, and better lit, so that it wasn’t quite so claustrophobic, but still it was cluttered. The books didn’t seem to be organised in an discernable way, so they had to ask for help from a shop assistant, who quickly scanned over Purity’s list and then, with a wave of her wand, had the books flying to the counter in mere seconds. Dr. Longbottom opened each one and flicked through it to make sure it was in good condition before paying for them. The whole transaction was over so quickly that Purity was a little disappointed that she didn’t get a chance to browse the bookshop, not that she’d be likely to find anything interesting in the muddle.

The books paid for and neatly packed away in her trunk, Purity followed Dr. Longbottom, who was kindly pulling the wheeled trunk for her, to a cauldron shop. There were cauldrons made from all sorts of metals, but Dr. Longbottom picked out a used one that was made from pewter, as the equipment list said it ought to be. He did, however, take the time to pick out one that was in good condition.

Then, a short visit to a visit to a sort of general goods shop later, to get a set of glass phials, a telescope, and a set of brass scales (all second hand, naturally), there was only one more thing that needed to be bought: a wand.

‘We’ll go to Ollivander’s for that,’ Dr. Longbottom. ‘He’s the best wandmaker in the country—one of the best in the world.’

Ollivander’s was another small shop, although bigger than Mr. Flint’s. Like all of the buildings on Diagon Alley, it was a little lopsided. As Dr. Longbottom opened the door, a bell tinkled faintly, somewhere in the depths of the shop.

Inside the shop, it was so quiet that it seemed also deafening. Motes of dust swirled in the small beams of sunlight that streamed in through the windows. The walls were covered in shelves, and the shelves were covered in small, dust-covered boxes. Next to the door, there was an old-fashioned chair, although one of its legs was broken.

‘Good morning,’ said a quiet voice.

Purity jumped, and she thought Dr. Longbottom might have too.

The speaker was an impossibly old man, bent over and so ethereal as to be almost insubstantial. His bespectacled eyes were the palest grey. ‘Ah, Dr. Longbottom: back with another of your young charges?’

‘Yes, Mr. Ollivander,’ he said, his voice wavering slightly; Mr. Ollivander clearly unnerved him too. ‘This is Purity Carrow.’

‘Carrow?’ Mr. Ollivander murmured. ‘Yes, yes. It’s been quite some time since a Carrow has bought a wand here. . . I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Miss Carrow, and I remember every witch or wizard I sold them to. Now—’

There was a noise from the back of the shop, where Purity couldn’t see, like a stack of cardboard boxes falling over.

‘Edmund?’ Mr. Ollivander called, his voice becoming croaky with the extra effort of raising it. ‘Edmund, why don’t you come and find a wand for this young witch?’

Purity felt her heart start to race: how he dare he call her a witch? But she soon remembered, she _was_ a witch, and she was here to buy her very own _magic wand_.

Edmund emerged from the back of the shop; he was young, not much older than the girls were when they left the care home to make their way in the world.

‘My nephew,’ Mr. Ollivander said proudly to Dr. Longbottom, while Edmund himself looked a little sheepish. ‘He’s done well at Hogwarts, and now he’s an apprentice, learning the family trade!’

‘Hullo, Edmund,’ Dr. Longbottom said warmly.

‘Uh, hello, Dr. Longbottom,’ Edmund said.

There was an awkward silence. Purity shifted a little.

‘What do you think?’ Mr. Ollivander said to Edmund.

‘Hmmm?’ Edmund said, confused. He seemed to catch himself. ‘Oh, right, a wand. Ummm. . . beech. . . maybe?’ He looked at his uncle, clearly guessing wildly.

Mr. Ollivander looked bemused. ‘Well, give it a go,’ he said.

‘Oh, er, right,’ Edmund said, becoming flustered. He moved to a wall of boxes, and started to peer at the labels on them. ‘Here’s one,’ he said, after a few moments, ‘Beech, seven inches, unicorn tail hair.’ He slid the box out from the shelf, opened it, and held it out to Purity.

Purity wasn’t sure what to do, so she just looked at the finely carved stick, nestled in a pool of velvet cloth.

‘Go on, give it a wave!’ Mr. Ollivander urged.

Purity took the wand from the box, and flicked it awkwardly up and down. Was that what he meant?

There was another awkward silence.

‘Well?’ Mr. Ollivander said to Edmund.

‘Nothing happened,’ Edmund said.

‘Yes,’ Mr. Ollivander said, ‘so what do we do now?’

‘Um, try another wand?’

‘Of course! But which one?’

‘Um. . . hmm. . .’

It seemed to go on forever: Edmund picking out a box, seemingly at random; Purity waving the wand, and nothing happening; Mr. Ollivander encouraging Edmund to get more wands out, but never giving any useful advice; Dr. Longbottom standing awkwardly to the side, not knowing what to do with himself.

Finally, Mr. Ollivander seemed to have had enough. ‘You were right about beech, I should think,’ he said, ‘and a shorter wand seems suitable too, but Miss Carrow is _the first Carrow to attend Hogwarts in quite some time_.’

‘Oh, er, Phoenix?’ Edmund asked.

‘Phoenix,’ Mr. Ollivander confirmed proudly.

Edmund spent quite some time rummaging amongst the wand boxes, but eventually emerged with one that he seemed to find satisfactory. ‘Beech, eight inches, phoenix tail feather,’ he said, holding the now-open box out to Purity.

Yet again, Purity took the wand, but this one seemed different. It felt warm, like it had been sitting out in the sun on a hot summer’s day. She waved it, and sparks shot out of the end.

‘Well done, Edmund,’ Mr. Ollivander said, clapping his nephew on the shoulder. ‘You found the one!’ He turned to Purity. ‘Buying a wand isn’t a matter of simply choosing one off the shelf,’ he explained. ‘The wand chooses the witch or wizard, and it is a very personal connection. If you use a different wizard’s wand, the results will never be as good.’

Dr. Longbottom paid Edmund for the wand, while Mr. Ollivander cleared all the other wands away: with a wave of his wand, all of the others soared gently into their boxes, which closed, and then flew independently to their assigned places on the shelves.

‘It’s good that he’s taken Edmund on as an apprentice,’ Dr. Longbottom said under his breath, as soon as the shop door was closed behind them, ‘Mr. Ollivander’s always been a little creepy.’

Purity wasn’t sure whether he was talking to her or to himself, but she privately agreed.

Dr. Longbottom reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a gold pocketwatch on a chain. ‘We’re making good time,’ he said, dropping it back into his pocket. ‘That’s everything on the list, isn’t it?’

Purity nodded.

‘The last thing we need to get is some quills and ink,’ he said. ‘Hogwarts will provide any parchment you need.’

Sugden’s Stationers was busy and bustling. Dr. Longbottom led Purity into the back of the shop, past aisles of greeting cards and postcards. Purity noticed that the illustrations on the fronts of the cards were moving!

Dr. Longbottom picked out four neat goose-feather quills, ten bottles of iron-gall ink and a bottle of red ink, and a penknife. After checking that Purity was happy with them—not that Purity knew anything about quills or bottled ink—he paid for them at the counter.

‘Would you like a copy of the paper? It’s free when you spend more than two sickles—’ the cashier began.

‘The _Daily Prophet_?’ Dr. Longbottom asked, wrinkling his nose. ‘No thanks.’

‘Well, that’s that, then,’ Dr. Longbottom said, once they were outside the stationer’s, with Purity’s quills, ink and penknife safely put away with everything else in her trunk. ‘I just need to tell you how to get to Hogwarts when term starts, and then I can take you back home.’

Dr. Longbottom reached into his pocket and withdrew an envelope that looked very similar to the one that he’d given her on Tuesday. ‘This is your train ticket,’ he said. ‘The Hogwarts Express leaves from King’s Cross Station at eleven o’clock on the first of September. You’ll need to find your own way there, I’m afraid, but the Hogwarts Express is a special charter service, just for Hogwarts students. The train will leave from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters; to get to the platform you need to walk through the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. It looks perfectly solid, and to Muggles it is, but you’ll go right through like it’s not even there. Make sense?’

Purity nodded. Go to King’s Cross, walk through the barrier, get on the train at eleven o’clock. Simple enough.

‘Right then, let’s go back to the Leaky Cauldron, and we can Floo back to Morecambe.’

They weaved their way through the throng of wizards and witches, Dr. Longbottom taking Purity’s trunk again. As they passed through the pub, Mrs. Longbottom was busy serving some customers, so they didn’t stop to chat.

After Dr. Longbottom reminded her how the Floo powder worked, she took some from his offered bag, threw it into the fire, stepped into the now-green flames, and said, ‘Bare Lane!’

The spinning, swirling sensation was just as uncomfortable as it had been the first time, but Purity was better prepared for the landing, and she was able to stumble a bit before tripping over in the little room of the railway station.

She had just stood up again when the flames turned green again, and Dr. Longbottom appeared, still holding Purity’s trunk. They walked past the patterned wall and out onto the familiar platform.

This was the strangest part of it, Purity thought: how easily she could travel hundreds of miles, from the town she’d always known, to some far-off magical shopping street.

They walked the short distance to the house in companionable silence. Dr. Longbottom knocked on the door for Purity, and after a few moments, Angela opened it and smiled at them. ‘Ah, you’re back Purity. Did you get everything you need in Preston?’

‘Yes, we did, Mrs. Dewhurst,’ Dr. Longbottom answered.

‘And thank you for taking her, Doctor,’ Angela said.

‘Oh, not at all,’ Dr. Longbottom said, smiling, with the slightest of bows. ‘Well, I must be off,’ he said, and with that, walked back towards the railway station.

‘Goodness, that looks heavy!’ Angela said, seeing Purity’s trunk for the first time.

‘Um, I’m not sure,’ Purity said, ‘Dr. Longbottom carried it for me.’

‘He really is kind,’ Angela said approvingly. ‘We’ll move it inside together.’

It turned out not to be heavy at all, but just before Purity closed the front door behind her, she heard a _bang_ in the distance. She looked down the street, but couldn’t see anything that might have made the noise—or Dr. Longbottom.

A few minutes later, the trunk was safely tucked underneath Purity’s bed, and Purity herself was sitting with the other girls in front of the telly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Apparition Points. Wilkie Twycross informs us that the key to Apparition is 'Destination, Determination, and Deliberation'. 'Destination'--visualising one's intended destination--is something of a problem if one intends to travel somewhere where they have never been. The Apparition Points solve this problem: located in every railway station in the country, including those closed by the Beeching Cuts, they are geographically ubiquitous; with their uniquely-patterned walls, they are an easily-visualised location, if one has the pictorial guidebook published by the Ministry; with an additional fireplace, they provide an alternative means of travel for those who are unable to Apparate. Of course, if there is no railway station nearby, one will need to use a broomstick, or, Merlin forbid, the Knight Bus.


	4. A Series of Trains

‘Purity.’

Purity shifted a little in her sleep.

‘Purity,’ the voice whispered again, but this time it was accompanied by a slight shove.

Purity rolled over, and blinked blearily at the figure standing above her. The grey light of early morning was leaking around the curtains and giving a faint backlight to the figure.

‘Morning, Angela,’ Purity mumbled. She stretched.

‘Time to get up, Purity,’ Angela murmured gently. ‘You need to get to London to go to school.’

Hogwarts! Still, it was _very_ early. Purity nodded, and started to get out of bed. She took her toiletry bag from under her bed—next to her trunk—and stumbled into the bathroom.

* * *

It was six o’clock in the morning, and almost everyone was still fast asleep. Purity had accidentally woken Lily when she came back from the bathroom, but Lily had managed to roll over and go back to sleep.

Once dressed in a t-shirt, jeans and a hoodie—she was planning to change into her school uniform on the Hogwarts Express—Purity dragged her wheeled trunk out from under her bed and into the hallway.

As much as the trunk, and its magical contents, had weighed on Purity’s mind, everyone else in the house seemed to have forgotten entirely that it existed. She’d stolen away from everyone watching _Strictly_ to pack last night, so it contained not only the things she’d bought with Dr. Longbottom, but also her casual clothes, a few novels, and some paper, envelopes and stamps, so she could write home. Dr. Longbottom had explained how wizards and witches used owls to send letters, and how she could send letters to the magical post office near the school to have them forwarded on to Angela.

‘I’ve made some sandwiches for you,’ Angela said as Purity dragged the trunk into the kitchen. ‘Coronation chicken,’ she added with a wink.

‘Ooh, thank you,’ Purity gushed. Coronation chicken was her favourite sandwich filling, but none of the other girls liked it.

Together, they carried the trunk outside and loaded it in the back of Angela’s people carrier. Angela drove up to Lancaster Railway Station, and Purity was too tired to notice that without any other traffic on the streets, Angela’s driving was much smoother. It barely registered that, because all the other girls were still fast asleep, this was the first time that Purity had ever had the privilege of sitting in the front seat.

In a rare defiance of the council’s edicts, Angela dropped Purity off in the bus stop, rather than making her walk. ‘Here’s your train ticket,’ Angela said, handing over the small slip of card. ‘Make sure you’ve got it with you the whole time, in case there’s a ticket inspector. And here’s a few pounds, so you can get a ticket on the Underground to King’s Cross.’

Purity nodded, still exhausted by the early hour. They got out of the car, and Angela help Purity retrieve her trunk. After a quick farewell hug, Purity dragged her trunk into the station. Just before she entered the building, she turned and gave Angela one last wave goodbye.

Angela flashed her headlights in response, and pulled out of the bus stop.

Purity was on her way to Hogwarts.

* * *

Ten minutes of sitting on a cold bench in a windy railway station nearly put Purity back to sleep, but the arrival of her train narrowly prevented that. She struggled to her feet, checked that her tickets were still in her jeans pocket, and dragged her trunk onto the train.

Luckily, the train was nearly empty, due to the early hour, and she was able to find a group of four seats facing each other over a table all to herself. She pushed the trunk under the table, sat down, and rested her forehead against the window. The train vibrated and hummed beneath her, and Purity soon drifted off to sleep.

* * *

‘Are you all right, dearie?’

Purity slowly blinked her eyes open, and peered up at the old lady leaning over her. She was dressed in a rather nice coat and skirt, and a felt hat, and was clutching one of those shopping trolleys particular to old-age pensioners. Angela would have fondly called her a ‘trolley dolly’.

‘Yes, ’m’fine,’ Purity mumbled, sitting up straight.

‘Is there anyone with you?’ the old lady pressed, concern etching her face.

Purity shook her head. ‘I’m on my way to school,’ she explained.

The old lady still didn’t seem convinced.

‘I’m fine,’ Purity said again, with greater conviction this time. ‘Where are we?’

The old lady smiled. ‘We’ve just left Stafford.’

‘Still a way to go to London then.’

The old lady nodded. ‘Yes, a long way to go. I’ll be sitting over here—just call if you need me.’

Purity saw where she was pointing. ‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling.

She toddled off with her trolley, just out of Purity’s view, and, presumably, sat down.

Purity shifted in her seat, relieving the tension in her muscles from where she had been slumped over in her seat. With her feet, she checked that her trunk was still under the table. It was.

Purity throught that she might like to get one of her books out of her trunk, but then realised that she wouldn’t be able to, because it was stuck underneath the table on the train. So instead, she looked out the window.

The train was just leaving a small town—small enough that the train didn’t stop at its station—and out into the countryside. Lush green fields, dotted with sheep and cattle, alternated with fields filled with crops nearing harvest time. Soon, however, the farmland gave way to rows of houses, not much unlike the one Purity lived in in Morecambe, but those houses soon became smaller, older, and clustered together, and the train started to slow and navigate sharper bends before stopping at a station. The signs on the platform read ‘Wolverhampton’. Purity didn’t know where Wolverhampton was, but she didn’t think it was in London.

After a minute, the train set off again, but did not reach its former high speed, instead moving briskly through the city, which continued to grow denser, until it slowed and stopped again at a much larger station, which the signs announced as ‘Birmingham New Street’.

Purity had at least heard of Birmingham; she thought she might be able to point it out on a map. She was about half way to London.

The rest of the journey passed in a similar way, alternating between countryside and towns, Purity watching it all pass by the window in silence.

* * *

Eventually, the train entered the largest city yet, and Purity assumed that it must be London. Minutes later, the tannoy confirmed that the train would soon be arriving at London Euston, and reminded all passengers to take all of their belongings with them.

As the train started to slow, the other passengers, whom the train had slowly accumulated on its journey, started to stand up in preparation to alight from the train. Purity wanted to join them, especially after having been sitting down for so long, but the corridor was now crowded enough that she wouldn’t be able to pull her trunk out from under the table.

The train stopped at the platform, the doors opened, and the other passengers got out. As soon as the corridor was clear, Purity jumped up, pulled her trunk out, and dragged it from the train onto the platform.

The platform was very long, so Purity had to drag her trunk a long way to get through the ticket barriers.

One in the station concourse, Purity began to panic slightly. This was London Euston Railway Station. The Hogwarts Express left from London King’s Cross Railway Station. Angela had told her that she needed to catch the Underground to King’s Cross.

The station concourse was awash with people hurrying every which way. There were signs everywhere. Purity looked around until she was almost dizzy before finding a sign with the word ‘Underground’ and the famous roundel logo. She hurried towards it.

Under the sign, there were more ticket barriers, and next to them, a ticket machine. With the coins that Angela had given her, Purity bought a ticket to King’s Cross St. Pancras, dragged her trunk through the ticket barriers, and descended the escalators.

At the bottom, it was just as hectic as it had been at the top, but now it was hot, and everyone was squashed into a cramped tunnel. The tunnel forked into two, and there was a sign between them, showing which way to go for which stations.

It seemed that King’s Cross St. Pancras was the next station, so Purity went down to the correct platform, but was dismayed to see that the train was leaving just as she stepped onto the platform!

She looked up at the indicator board. It was twenty to eleven—Purity had just twenty minutes to get on the Hogwarts Express, and she’d just missed the Underground train that would take her there!

But as Purity stared at the indicator board, and as panic began to set in again, the rails started to rattle, and the _whoosh_ of an approaching train washed over her.

The train ground to a halt, and the doors slid open. Purity yanked at her trunk, and made it into the train. She’d barely made it on board when the doors slammed shut and the train set off. Purity didn’t have a chance to find a seat; she just grabbed at a hand-hold and tried to remain upright.

The train accelerated much more rapidly than any other train Purity had been on, but had only been moving for about thirty seconds before the tannoy announced, ‘The next station is King’s Cross St. Pancras.’ The train lurched suddenly, and began to slow down. The darkness outside the windows was replaced by the bright light of the station, the train stopped, and the doors sprang open.

Purity regained her balance and pulled her trunk out of the train. She followed the other people who had got off the train, who happened to walk towards a sign reading, ‘Way Out’.

More tunnels, escalators, ticket barriers, and even more escalators later, Purity was standing in King’s Cross Railway Station. She looked at a clock—she had fifteen minutes to get on the train. She could see the platforms, but between her and them was a row of ticket barriers.

Purity pulled the ticket that Dr. Longbottom had given her from her pocket. It was a piece of parchment; it looked nothing like a National Rail ticket. Would it work?

Purity advanced on the ticket barriers. She walked up to one, and pushed the ticket into the slot. The screen on the barrier went all funny, and the ticket popped out again, but the barrier did open, so Purity hurried through.

Dr. Longbottom said that the train left from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and to get on the platform, she had to walk through the barrier between Platform Nine and Platform Ten. She walked along the concourse, and reached the end of Platform Nine.

The barrier was right there. But something rooted Purity to the spot. She was all alone in this railway station; she couldn’t do something odd like try to walk through a barrier!

She looked around—perhaps there would be an adult that could help. But what what adult would entertain an eleven-year-old girl’s question about how to reach an imaginary platform to catch a train to a magic school?

‘There it is, Teddy,’ a woman said to a boy who looked to be about Purity’s age. They were pushing a trolley, and on it there was an old-fashioned trunk that looked much like Purity’s, and a cage with an _owl_.

‘Wizarding Post is carried by owls,’ Dr. Longbottom said in Purity’s memory.

Purity started walking towards them. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, ‘Do you know where’—she couldn’t ask where Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was—’where to catch the train to Hogwarts?’

The woman and the boy took a moment to realise that Purity was speaking to them, but when they did, the woman smiled at her. ‘First year?’ she asked kindly.

Purity nodded.

‘Not to worry,’ the woman said, ‘it’s Teddy’s first year too.’

Teddy smiled confidently at Purity. He had light brown hair and a heart-shaped face.

‘It is nerve-wracking the first time,’ the woman continued, ‘but we can go through together.’

Side-by-side, Purity, Teddy, and the woman whom Purity assumed must be Teddy’s mother, marched towards the barrier. Purity’s fear began to mount, that she would run into the barrier and hurt herself, but she was somehow unable to stop walking. The barrier was getting closer; she was going to hit it; she closed her eyes—

Purity opened her eyes. She was standing on a platform at King’s Cross station. The train waiting at the platform was a red steam locomotive, in front of a line of equally-red coaches. She looked up at the sign.

‘Welcome to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters,’ the woman said kindly. Suddenly, she looked apologetic. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I didn’t bother to ask your name.’

‘Purity,’ Purity said, ‘Purity Carrow. And thank you for showing me onto the platform, Mrs. . .’

As Purity introduced herself, the woman seemed to freeze, as though her name meant something to her. But the woman seemed to shake herself out of it in time to introduce herself as Andromeda Tonks.

‘Well, we’d better get you onto the train before it leaves,’ Mrs. Tonks said. ‘How about we find a compartment where you can sit together?’

They headed off through the crowd, which was just as busy as the ones in the Muggle railway stations that Purity had passed through already, but much more colourful, with cats meandering amongst the wizards and witches, and all sorts of mishaps with luggage. They made their way along the platform, and eventually found an empty compartment.

‘You two hop in,’ Mrs. Tonks said kindly, opening the door for them, ‘and then I’ll levitate your things in with you.’

Teddy let Purity in before himself, and once they were both seated, on opposite sides of the compartment, Mrs. Tonks waved her wand at the two trunks and the owl cage, and they floated up into the carriage.

The train blew its whistle.

‘Just in the nick of time!’ Mrs. Tonks said. ‘Make sure you behave yourself! Don’t take Harry’s and the Weasleys’ stories too seriously!’

‘I won’t!’ Teddy protested.

‘Have fun! I’ll see you at Christmas!’ Mrs. Tonks replied, and closed the compartment door.

With a great heave, the locomotive started the train moving.

Teddy jumped up, opened the window, and waved goodbye to Mrs. Tonks. Purity followed suit, and saw that the entire side of the train was a mass of arms waving energetic farewells to their family members, who were waving back with equal enthusiasm.

Once their compartment had gone beyond the end of the platform, Purity and Teddy closed the windows and sat back down.

‘So,’ Purity said, ‘Teddy Tonks and Purity Carrow, off to Hogwarts to learn magic!’

‘Lupin,’ Teddy corrected, ‘Teddy Lupin. That’s my granny, not my mum.’

‘Oh,’ Purity said, a little embarrassed, ‘sorry.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Teddy said, ‘you weren’t to know.’

There was a short silence, punctuated by the soft sound of the train moving over the tracks, while they both struggled to think of something to say.

‘I like your owl,’ Purity said.

‘Thanks,’ Teddy said. ‘His name is Archie. He was a present from my godfather, so I can write to him and Granny without having to use one of the school owls.’

‘Not your parents?’ Purity asked, before realising that that might be an insensitive question. She really ought to have known better, she thought, being an orphan and all.

Teddy looked at the floor and shook his head. ‘My parents are dead,’ he said.

‘Oh,’ Purity said, her heart sinking. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a quiet voice. Then, after a moment, she added, ‘So are mine.’

Teddy looked up at her. ‘I was wondering why you were all on your own,’ he said. ‘Were. . . were your parents magical?’

‘No,’ Purity said. ‘At least, I don’t think so. I live in a Muggle care home.’

‘Not that it matters,’ Teddy said hurriedly.

‘Doesn’t it?’ Purity asked. ‘I don’t know any magic—I bet you know heaps.’

Teddy shook his head. ‘I know the incantantions for some spells, from watching people do magic, but I’ve never intentionally done any. You can’t get a wand until you go to school, and you can’t do intentional magic outside of school until you’re seventeen.’

‘Really?’ Purity said. ‘What, do the police come ’round and tell you off for doing magic, or something?’

‘No,’ Teddy explained, ‘the Ministry of Magic sends the Reeves around. The Reeves deal with normal sorts of crime, and the Aurors deal with Dark magic and serious sorts of crime.’

_The Aurors deal with Dark magic and serious sorts of crime._ Auror Bones had come to visit with Dr. Longbottom, and Purity now wondered what she was there _for_. Serious crimes and Dark magic? Had Purity somehow been involved with that?

She shook her head. It didn’t matter—she was on the train, and going to Hogwarts!

‘Do you have a television?’ Teddy asked.

‘Uh, yes,’ Purity said. _Who didn’t have a TV?_

‘Cool,’ Teddy said. ‘Harry’s told me about them, but I’ve never seen one. Electricity doesn’t work when there’s magic around. Harry’s my godfather, by the way.’

‘You don’t have a telly?’ Purity asked, shocked. It wasn’t as though the telly was the only thing she did, but it was important for all of the girls whom Angela looked after. ‘What do you _do_?’

‘I read a lot,’ Teddy said, ‘and Harry’s been teaching me to play Quidditch.’

The compartment door slid open, and an Asian boy stuck his head in. ‘Are you first years?’ he asked.

Teddy nodded, while Purity said, ‘Yes, we are.’

‘Is it okay if we sit with you?’ the boy asked. ‘All the other compartments are full.’

‘Sure,’ Teddy said, and he and Purity shifted their trunks aside to make room.

The boy opened the compartment door fully, and pulled his trunk inside. He was followed by a girl with brown hair and freckles. ‘Thanks,’ the girl said. ‘I’m Briony Roberts, by the way, and this is Irfan.’

Purity and Teddy introduced themselves while Briony and Irfan shifted their trunks around and sat down.

‘I still can’t believe it,’ Briony said, ‘I’m a witch! Did any of you know before you got the visit?’

Irfan shook his head, and Purity said, ‘No,’ but Teddy nodded.

‘My whole family is magical,’ Teddy said. ‘What visit?’

‘You didn’t get a visit?’ Briony asked. ‘To tell you that you got a place at Hogwarts.’

‘No, I just got the letter,’ Teddy said. ‘Maybe they only visit Muggleborns.’

‘Does magic usually run in families, then?’ Briony asked.

‘Yep,’ Teddy answered. ‘There used to be this whole thing about “Blood Purity”. Basically, some families somehow decided that Muggles were evil, and prided themselves on only having magical ancestors, and they called themselves Purebloods. They used to call Muggleborns. . .’ Teddy glanced at the compartment door and lowered his voice. ‘They used to call Muggleborns “Mudbloods”, and they called wizards or witches who had magical parents but who weren’t Pureblooded “Half-bloods”. Nowadays, you can call yourself Pureblooded if all your grandparents were magical. I’m a Half-blood, because my grandmother on my Dad’s side was a Muggle, but my granny was from one of the old Pureblood families. They disowned her when she married my Grandad, because he was Muggleborn.’

Purity was shocked, and Irfan looked it. ‘That’s awful,’ Briony said.

‘Yeah,’ Teddy said, looking at the floor. ‘It was really awful.’

An awkward silence fell across them. Teddy was still staring glumly at the floor.

There was a knock on the compartment door, and after a second, it slid open to reveal a short witch with a pug nose. She carried a baby in a sling, who was fast asleep, and was pushing a trolley. ‘Anything off the trolley?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got pumpkin pasties, pumpkin juice, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble’s Gum, Fizzing Whizzbees. . .’

She was still rattling off lists of things that Purity had never heard of, but sounded vaguely like food, as Teddy jumped and pulled a money bag from his pocket. He walked over to the door and was about to peer into the trolley, when he looked back at Purity, Briony and Irfan. ‘You’ve never heard of any of these things, have you?’ he asked.

Purity and Irfan shook their heads; Briony said, ‘No.’

‘Right,’ Teddy said, and proceeded to negotiate the purchase of what sounded like a considerable quantity of sweets.

Purity’s stomach rumbled, and she realised that it was nearly midday, and she hadn’t eaten anything all day. She reached for her trunk, opened it, and fetched the sandwiches that Angela had made for her. She had just closed it when Teddy dropped an armful of food on top of it.

‘Sorry,’ Teddy said, but quickly added, much more brightly, ‘all right, help yourself, everyone. These sweets are better than anything you’ve ever had!’

Purity unwrapped one of her sandwiches while she watched Briony, Irfan and Teddy dig in to Teddy’s haul. Her first mouthful of soft white bread and rich, tangy sauce was interrupted by Teddy’s warning to Irfan.

‘You want to be careful with those,’ he said, as Irfan peered at a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. ‘They really do have _every_ flavour. I got a mud-flavoured one once.’

Irfan wrinkled his nose, set the box aside, and followed Briony’s example by taking a Chocolate Frog instead.

‘There’s a card in here,’ Briony said, turning the card over to look at it.

‘Oh yeah,’ Teddy said around a mouthful of pumpkin pasty, ‘they have Famous Wizards and Witches Cards; you can collect them. Who’d you get?’

‘Kingsley Shacklebolt,’ Briony said. She turned the card over and read, ‘“Current Minister for Magic; former Auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix. Commander of the Order of Merlin. Enjoys listening to Muggle music in his spare time.”’

‘I got Rowena Ravenclaw,’ Irfan said, having opened his Chocolate Frog. From the back of the card, he read, ‘“One of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the ninth century. Said to be the cleverest witch of her time, her Hogwarts house selects for this quality.”’

‘Cool,’ Teddy said, ‘that’s the start of your collection. Want one, Purity?’

Purity, who had just finished her sandwich, nodded. Teddy threw a Chocolate Frog to her, and she managed—just—to catch it. She tore the box open, popped the Chocolate Frog into her mouth—the chocolate was rich and creamy, nicer than any she’d had before—and looked at the card. ‘Merlin,’ she said. ‘Was he real?’

‘Yeah, though I think some of the stories about him were made up,’ Teddy said.

The four of them spent a happy fifteen minutes trying all of the sweets, and a bit of pumpkin pasty for good measure.

* * *

Purity stared out of the window, watching the countryside go past. It was steadily getting wilder and wilder.

‘Hogwarts. . . house,’ Irfan murmured.

Purity looked over, and saw that Irfan was reading his first Chocolate Frog card again.

‘It says here that Ravenclaw’s house at Hogwarts selects for cleverness,’ Irfan said. ‘How does that work, then?’

‘What do you mean?’ Teddy asked.

‘Well, school houses are just groups, for sports competitions and things, right?’ Irfan said. ‘So how would one house select for cleverness?’

‘Different houses have different dormitories,’ Teddy said, ‘so you kind of stick with your own house. And there’s a Sorting ceremony, to work out which house you should be in: Gryffindor is for the brave, Ravenclaw is for the clever, Hufflepuff is for the honest and hard-working, and Slytherin is for the cunning.’

‘Sorting ceremony,’ Purity asked. ‘How do they work out which one is you? Is there a test?’

Teddy opened his mouth answer, but then paused, frowned, and closed his mouth again. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Everyone goes on about how nervous they were at their Sorting, and what things get you into what houses, and how it doesn’t really matter which one you get Sorted into, but they never say how it actually happens.’

‘I guess we’ll find out soon enough,’ Briony said with a shrug.

Teddy suddenly looked a bit nervous. Purity supposed that it was probably because he was worried about what house he would be Sorted into.

She decided to distract him. ‘You said something about Quidditch earlier. . . what’s that?’ Purity asked.

And Teddy’s mood changed instantly; he was off, talking nineteen to the dozen, about a game played on broomsticks. Purity, Briony and Irfan could hardly keep up.

* * *

Teddy was in the middle of a story about a trip to South Africa to see a Quidditch World Cup game with his godfather when a face peered in through the window in the compartment door, and then slid the door open.

‘Are you Edward Lupin?’ the boy, who looked to be a few years older than them, asked with no introduction, looking straight at Teddy, ignoring the others.

‘Might be,’ Teddy said defensively. ‘Who are you?’

The boy smiled and leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms. ‘I’m Jeremiah Smith,’ he said, ‘my Uncle Zacharias was a friend of your godfather’s—’

‘Zacharias Smith?’ Teddy said ponderously, ‘Hmmm.’ He frowned, deep in concentration. His eyes lit up, seemingly having remembered the name. ‘Harry never mentioned him,’ he said, slowly and loudly, ‘but I did once overhear Ginny—that’s Lady Potter to you—once call him a traitor who tried to sell out on Dumbledore’s Army to the Death Eaters—’

‘Hey!’ Jeremiah Smith said angrily, ‘Don’t you talk about my uncle like that!’

Teddy leapt to his feet, and Purity jumped in shock as his hair suddenly turned scarlet. ‘Really?’ Teddy bellowed. ‘You come in here, trying to befriend me just because my godfather’s famous—’

Jeremiah Smith had already started backing away at the sight of Teddy’s hair, but at that outburst, his face turned the same shade of red, and he turned and ran, slamming the door closed behind him.

Teddy sank into his seat, breathing heavily.

After a moment, Purity asked carefully, ‘Teddy? Your hair. . .’

‘Hmmm?’ Teddy asked. ‘Oh, did it change?’ He screwed up his face in concentration, and his hair changed back to its former light brown colour.

‘How did you do that?’ Irfan asked. ‘Is that something all of us can do?’

Teddy shook his head. ‘No, it’s pretty rare to be a Metamorphmagus—that’s a wizard who can change their appearance however they want. Apparently my hair started changing colour as soon as I was born, but I’ve mostly got it under control now, except when I get upset.’

‘Wow,’ Briony said, ‘so you can change to look like someone else.’

Teddy just grinned, but then closed his eyes in concentration, which turned his smile into a grimace. His hair darkened and his face became dotted with freckles, just like Briony’s.

Irfan’s mouth fell open and Purity watched in outright fascination. Briony made a strange sort of sound, before saying, ‘It’s a bit weird to look at. . .’

‘Yeah,’ Teddy said, before changing back to his usual appearance. ‘It can be fun though.’ A moment later, he had a pig’s nose.

Purity, Briony and Irfan all laughed, and each requested different animal noses, which Teddy duly provided.

After several minutes of exploring Teddy’s nasal repertoire, Purity glanced out the window. ‘How much further do you think it is?’ she asked.

‘No idea,’ Teddy shrugged, once he had returned his nose to its normal form.

‘We should probably get changed into our robes, though,’ Briony observed. ‘In case we get there soon.’

They decided that Teddy and Irfan would stay and change in the compartment, and that Purity and Briony would go and use the toilets at each end of the carriage.

* * *

‘We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time,’ a voice echoed throughout the train. ‘Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.’

Briony didn’t seem the slightest bit put out by the interruption to her story about her visit from Professor Slughorn. On the contrary, she squealed in excitement.

Purity peered out of the window, trying to see the school, but it was getting dark, and she couldn’t see very far at all.

They all started fussing at their things, and Teddy murmured quietly to Archie.

The train began to slow. Eventually, it ground to a halt, and Purity looked out of the window at the tiny station. The sign on the platform read ‘Hogsmeade’.

‘I guess we’re here,’ Irfan said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pansy Parkinson. Never a Death Eater, but a bully, albeit the sort to grow out of it (mostly) by adulthood. She was, however, at school at a time when the Powers that Were found petty bullies to be useful; hence, her role in the Inquisitorial Squad, and her support of the (elder) Carrows' reign of terror. At the end of the war, despite never being charged with any crime, she fled Britain for her oldest ally, Portugal, and made a new, modest life for herself. She fell in love with a Portuguese wizard, bore his child, but was subsequently abandoned by him when he discovered her past. She returned to Britain as an outcast and a single mother, and was able to find work selling food and drinks on the train that, amongst other services, acts as the Hogwarts Express. Like other witches and wizards who had allied themselves to Voldemort, the end of the second war--more conclusive than the end of the war--represents a very real end to popular appeal for Pureblood supremacy--at least for the foreseeable future--and thus Pansy experiences a crisis of identity that her ostracism from wider society prevents her from resolving. The job does not pay well, and she will hold it until she dies. Her only child is a Squib.


	5. The Sorting Ceremony

Teddy opened the compartment door, and, abandoning their luggage to whatever it was that was going to take it to the school, they stepped down onto the platform, and into the throng of students.

‘Firs’ years,’ a man’s voice boomed over the students, ‘Firs’ years over ’ere.’

Teddy’s face lit up. ‘Hagrid,’ he said, and then to his companions, ‘come on.’

Purity, Briony and Irfan followed Teddy through the crowd to the far end of the platform, where an enormous man was still calling for the first year students over their heads. He was not only tall, but also extremely wide; Purity reckoned that he could knock a house over just by kicking it. He an long mane of curly black hair, and an enormous bushy black beard, and kind eyes.

‘Hello, Hagrid,’ Teddy said cheerily when they reached Hagrid.

‘’ullo, Teddy,’ Hagrid said, ‘’ave a good train ride? An’ ’o’s this?’

Teddy introduced Purity, Irfan and Briony to Hagrid.

‘Pleasure to meet you,’ Hagrid said. ‘I teach a bit o’ Care o’ Magical Creatures, but my main job is Keeper o’ Grounds and Keys.’ He looked up at the crowd of students still filling the platform. ‘Firs’ years over ’ere!’

Once Hagrid deemed the group huddled around him, he said, ‘Righ’, tha’s the lo’ o’ yeh. Come on, follo’ me.’

He led them off the end of the platform and along a path into a forest. It was very dark; Purity was glad that Hagrid knew where he was going. After a few minutes, Hagrid looked back over his shoulder and said, ‘All righ’, you’ll get your first look a’ Hogwarts in a sec’.’

They rounded a corner onto the shore of a vast lake. On the other side, sitting on a lake, was a vast castle, light pouring from all of its windows. Purity had never seen anything like it.

‘No more than four to a boat,’ Hagrid called, pointing at the shoreline.

A huddle of boats was waiting for them. Purity followed Teddy, Briony and Irfan into the nearest one. It wobbled ominously as she stepped into it, but she quickly dropped onto a seat.

‘Righ’, everyone in?’ Hagrid called from the boat that he occupied by himself, before pointing something—Purity couldn’t see what—at the castle, like a mediaeval king pointing his sword to order his army to charge.

As one, the boats moved away from the shore, and moved silently across the still lake.

Purity gazed up at the castle. She hadn’t wondered very much what Hogwarts would look like, but even if she had, she would never had expected a _castle_.

They approached a cliff; Hagrid called at the first-years, ‘Duck!’ as they passed beneath a curtain of ivy. On the other side was a small harbour in a cave. The boats dock in the harbour, and the students struggled ashore. Hagrid seemed to be holding some sort of flaming torch, but Purity couldn’t see.

They trudged up a narrow passageway that had been hewed from the rock and up onto a smooth lawn of fine grass, leading up to the castle. At the enormous doors, large enough to make Hagrid look small, they stopped, and Hagrid made three thunderous knocks.

One of the doors opened.

‘The first years, Professor Flitwick,’ Hagrid said, but from her position in the middle of the group of first-years, Purity couldn’t see Professor Flitwick at all.

‘Thank you, Hagrid,’ a voice said. It was high-pitched, but undoubtedly a man’s. ‘Come in.’

Purity moved with the group into a vast room; the children’s home would fit inside it several times over. On the far side, a marble staircase led upwards; the walls were covered in portraits between the numerous doorways. One doorway on the left was far larger and grander than the others, and Purity thought that she could hear the hubbub of the older students beyond it, but the group of first-years, following the as-yet-unseen Professor Flitwick, moved into a small antechamber instead.

In the antechamber, the first years spread out, and Purity got her first glimpse of Professor Flitwick. He was very short, shorter than any of the eleven-year olds standing before him.

‘Welcome to Hogwarts,’ he said. ‘In a moment, you will be joining the rest of the school, but first, you will need to participate in the Sorting Ceremony. Hogwarts has four houses, named after its founders: Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Whichever house you are sorted into, it become something of a family for you while you are at school. Each house has its own dormitory and common room; you will eat at your house table; you will compete for your house in various ways. Things that you do well will earn you house points; misdemeanours will cost you points. I hope you contribute more to the former than the latter, and so will your house: the house with the most house points by the end of the year will win the House Cup!

‘Now, I must go, but I shall return when we are ready to begin the ceremony. In the meantime, you may want to correct your uniforms.’

With that, Professor Flitwick left, closing the door into the Entrance Hall behind him.

Purity looked around at the other first years, seeing them clearly for the first time. She was surprised by how few there were: there were only about fifteen.

She looked to Teddy, who was standing next to her, and was going to ask him whether that was the normal number, but was surprised to see that he was pale and shaking slightly.

‘Teddy,’ she whispered, ‘are you okay?’

Teddy gulped, and glanced at the other first years, who were busy fussing over their uniforms. ‘My parents. . . my parents died here,’ he murmured. ‘They died defending the castle.’

Purity didn’t know what to say, but she put her arm around his shoulders, and that seemed to be enough.

Briony noticed, and gave Purity a quizzical look.

‘Just nervous,’ Purity said in answer.

Teddy nodded, seemingly having pulled himself together a little. ‘I want to get into Gryffindor,’ he said, ‘like my Dad and my godfather.’ He shrugged almost imperceptibly, just enough to let Purity know that she could lower her arm. She did so, and Teddy gave her a small smile of thanks.

‘Surely they’ll put us in the same houses as our families,’ one girl said. ‘That’s how all schools work, isn’t it?’

Teddy shook his head, seeming to gain confidence from being the authority in the room. ‘Gryffindor’s for the brave, Ravenclaw’s for the clever, Hufflepuff’s for the loyal, and Slytherin’s for the cunning,’ he said.

‘How do they work out which one we are?’ a boy asked.

‘That’s what the ceremony is, I suppose,’ Teddy said.

The door opened, and Professor Flitwick stood behind it. ‘We’re ready for you now,’ he said. ‘Form a single line and follow me, please.’

The first years filed out of the door and across the Entrance Hall behind Professor Flitwick, and into the Great Hall. Purity’s jaw dropped open. They walked between four long tables, each filled with older students. The hoods of the students’ robes were a different colour at each table; Purity supposed that this represented their house. Above them, thousands upon thousands of candles hovered, and beyond that, the ceiling showed neither timber nor stone, but rather the night sky outside.

Professor Flitwick led them to the front of the hall, and directed them to form a single line facing the rest of the students, their backs to the High Table where the teachers sat. He then went to the side of the hall, and brought over a stool with a wizard’s hat on it.

The hat was old and worn; it had patches on it here and there. Angela wouldn’t have liked it.

The older students were staring at the hat, and so was Professor Flitwick. Purity stared at it too.

The hat twitched. Its top bent back, and a rip began to form near its base. The rip became larger, and then the hat began to sing:

> _When Hogwarts was a-founded,  
>  o’er a thousand years ago,  
>  their plans for this new magic school  
>  the Founders Four did know.  
>  The houses four, the Founders made,  
>  to nurture grand designs:  
>  these ideals, they still teach today  
>  in your growing minds.  
>  Great Gryffindor, he hailed from Wales,  
>  and fought for right not wrong:  
>  those he taught, they tried to rise  
>  above the cowardly throng.  
>  Wise Ravenclaw, the noble Scot,  
>  made this a place of learning,  
>  and those in her great tutelage  
>  made knowing all their yearning.  
>  Sweet Hufflepuff, who sailed from Eire,  
>  cared for those in need.  
>  Her disciples, how great their hearts,  
>  gave to all but greed.  
>  Slytherin, of Angle-land,  
>  was sly and most ambitious:  
>  his devotees in all their deeds  
>  are ruthless (how!) and vicious.  
>  In one of these, you’ll find a home:  
>  I’ll provide you that.  
>  Put me on and I’ll decide,  
>  for I’m the Sorting Hat!  
>  _

The whole Hall burst into enthusiastic applause. Purity joined in, although not so confidently: she didn’t think any of those really applied to her. Where would the Hat put her?

‘When I call your name, come forward and sit on the stool,’ Professor Flitwick said, unrolling a long roll of parchment, ‘so that the Sorting Hat can sort you.’ He peered at the parchment.

‘Allen, Michael!’

A boy stumbled forwards from the line of first years, and sat on the stool. Professor Flitwick waved his wand at the hat, which floated onto his head. The hat fell down to cover Michael’s head, and simply sat there for a moment, before shouting, for all the Hall to hear, ‘RAVENCLAW!’

The table decorated in blue erupted into cheers, Professor Flitwick levitated the hat off Michael’s head, and he walked over to join them.

‘Carrow, Purity!’

Goodness, already? Purity walked forwards, shaking slightly out of nervousness, and sat on the stool. The hat lowered onto her head, and she was shrouded in darkness.

‘Hmmm,’ a voice said in her ear, and Purity jumped. She realised that the hat was talking to her. ‘Loyal and honest, you’d do well in Hufflepuff, yes–oh, wait, what’s this? Oh, no, no, _GRYFFINDOR!_ ’

The last word was shouted for the whole Hall to hear, and as the hat levitated off her head, Purity saw that the cheering this time game from the house decorated in red. Still shaking, she walked over to what was presumably the Gryffindor table, and sat down.

‘Welcome!’ a girl, who looked to be about fifteen, said.

Purity smiled gratefully back to her, then as everyone else did, turned to watch the rest of the Sorting.

Ruby Cobb was already sitting on the stool; Purity just caught a glimpse of her nervous expression before it disappeared beneath the hat. Ruby’s hands gripped the stool anxiously; the hat seemed to be taking its time with this one. ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’ it finally shouted, and Ruby ran off to the yellow table as soon as the hat was off her head.

‘Joseph Godfrey!

Joseph made his way to the stool, and the hat had barely touched his head before shouting, ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’

‘Hassell, Melanie!’

Melanie took about fifteen seconds to be put into Ravenclaw.

‘Khan, Irfan!’

As Irfan made his way to the stool, Purity flashed him a smile, but she didn’t think he noticed. Irfan had been nice; Purity hoped that he would be in Gryffindor with her.

‘SLYTHERIN!’

_No such luck._

‘Lupin, Edward!’

As Teddy stepped forward, there was a sudden anticipation in the Hall, and gust of whispering. Purity thought back to Jeremiah’s visit on the train. People seemed to know who Teddy was—who _was_ he?

The Sorting Hat seemed to know who Teddy was; it only took about three seconds to declare him a Gryffindor. Purity enthusiastically welcomed him, along with the rest of her house.

‘Muir, Abigail!’

Abigail took her place on the stool, and within thirty seconds, was making her way to the Slytherin table.

‘Nye, Sarah!’

Sarah tripped slightly on her way to the stool, and gripped it tightly as the hat descended towards her. The hat never obscured her vision; immediately, it shouted, ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’

‘O’Reilly, George!’

George sat on the stool for a good thirty seconds.

‘Ooh, a hatstall?’ Teddy asked rhetorically.

‘Oh, no,’ the older girl sitting next to Purity said, ‘it needs to be a couple of minutes to call it a hatstall.’

‘SLYTHERIN!’ the hat finally shouted.

‘Peterson, Benjamin!’

Benjamin took his place on the stool, and after fifteen seconds of the hat’s deliberations, it shouted, ‘GRYFFINDOR!’ and Benjamin joined Purity and Teddy at the Gryffindor table.

‘Potter, Emily!’

When Teddy’s name had been called, the older students had started whispering, but now, they were talking excitedly. By the time Emily had made it to the stool, it seemed that they were unable to reach a conclusion, and fell quiet.

A few seconds later, the hat shouted, ‘SLYTHERIN!’ and amongst the Slytherin table’s applause, the other students started to talk again.

In fact, this round of talking didn’t die down until ‘Ramsay, Harry’ had been declared by the hat to be a ‘RAVENCLAW!’

‘Roberts, Briony!’

Purity and Teddy watched carefully. Irfan had been sorted into Slytherin; where would Briony end up?

Briony made her way to the stool and sat down. The hat lowered onto her head. And then—‘RAVENCLAW!’

‘Singh, Radhika!’

Radhika sat on the stool, and the hat stayed on her head for nearly a full minute, before sorting her into ‘GRYFFINDOR!’

As Purity, Teddy and Benjamin welcomed Radhika, the last first-year—‘Yang, William!’—was called forth, and moments later was sorted into ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’

The Sorting Ceremony completed, Professor Flitwick, took the hat and the stool away, and the teacher seated at the centre of the high table, an old witch with grey hair tied in a tight bun, whom Purity assumed must be the headmistress, stood. ‘Good evening,’ she said, in a cultured Scottish accent. ‘To those of you who have just been sorted: welcome; to those of you who are returning: welcome back. There are, of course, announcements to be made, but they will not be made now. For now, let us eat.’

Purity’s jaw dropped at the quantity and variety of food that suddenly materialised on the plates before her. Teddy’s eyes lit up, the older students started serving themselves and chatting as though this was perfectly ordinary, and so the four new Gryffindors also began to pile their plates.

‘I’m Amy McMillan,’ the older girl who had welcomed Purity said to the first-years, ‘I’m one of the Gryffindor Prefects.’

‘I’m Ben Peterson,’ Ben said. ‘I must say, this is all simply extraordinary. Is it always like this?’

Purity was taken aback; she’d never heard an accent like Ben’s, except on the telly.

Amy smiled. ‘Well, the food selection isn’t usually this wide, but otherwise, Hogwarts does tend to be, well. . . magical.’ She chuckled slightly, before eating a mouthful of potatoes.

‘Well, I am impressed,’ Ben said. ‘Father was a little disappointed when I chose Hogwarts over Radley, but I think I’ll be able to win him over now.’

‘So you’re Muggleborn then?’ Amy asked.

Ben nodded. ‘I’m Muggleborn, too,’ Radhika added.

‘And me,’ Purity said.

‘I’m a Halfblood,’ Teddy said. ‘Three wizard grandparents, and one Muggle grandmother.’

Amy looked at Teddy for the first time, and didn’t seem able to look away now that she had. She opened her mouth as if to ask Teddy something, but then looked as if she had changed her mind. ‘I’m from a Pureblood family,’ she said, ‘not that that matters at all.’ She laughed nervously, and looked at Teddy again.

‘Of course not,’ Teddy said. ‘No one really knows how to do any magic before they come to Hogwarts, do they?’

‘No,’ Amy said, sounding strangely relieved, although Purity couldn’t see why she should be.

‘I looked through my textbooks over the summer,’ Radhika said, ‘but I couldn’t really learn much, because Dr. Richardson said I couldn’t do any magic outside school.’

‘Yes, that is the law,’ Amy said sadly. ‘Though it does mean that there won’t be as many accidents.’

‘I didn’t get a chance to look at mine over the summer,’ Purity said once she had swallowed a mouthful of carrots. ‘What sorts of magic will we be studying?’

‘Oh, all sorts,’ Amy said. ‘Transfiguration—turning things into other things—and Charms—giving things new properties—will be your main two subjects, but you’ll also have Potions, Herbology—looking after magical plants, you know—Astronomy, History of Magic, and, um Defence Against the Dark Arts.’

‘Defence Against the Dark Arts?’ Ben asked. ‘What’s that?’

Amy seemed flustered, and glanced at Teddy.

‘Dark magic is evil magic,’ Teddy said, staring down at his sausages. ‘Magic that’s used to hurt other people, to control other people, to. . . to hurt people.’

There was an awkward silence; Purity and Radhika decided that eating was a good way to fill it.

‘Well, it’s good that we’re learning to defend outselves against it, then,’ Ben said weakly.

The silence spun out again.

* * *

Purity was about to eat her last mouthful of mashed potatoes when all the food disappeared from the plates. Seconds later, it was replaced by an equally staggering diversity of desserts.

Dessert was a rare treat in the children’s home; it was served on Sundays only, and was usually something like apple crumble with custard, or chocolate cake with ice cream. But at Hogwarts, there were trifles and plum puddings, and all sorts of things that Purity had never had the opportunity to enjoy before.

Suddenly, what Purity could only describe as a ghost came floating down the table. It was a man, in an elaborate historical costume with a thick ruff, silvery and transparent. The ghost stopped in the midst of the group of first years.

‘Hello, Sir Nicholas,’ Amy said. ‘Have a nice summer?’

‘I suppose so,’ Sir Nicholas said, ‘about as nice as the past four hundred. . . I thought I might come and introduce myself to our new first year Gryffindors.’ He turned his attention to the four youngest occupants of the table. ‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ he said, with rather more vigour. ‘Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower—’

‘Oh, I’ve heard of you,’ Teddy said excitedly. ‘You’re Nearly Headless Nick!’

‘ _Nearly_ headless?’ Purity asked. ‘How can you be _nearly_ headless?’

Nearly Headless Nick sighed, as though he’d had the exact same conversation every first of September since the day he’d died. ‘Like _this_ ,’ he said, pulling on his ear, so that his head detached from his neck. Purity thought that it was the sort of thing they’d have on _Horrible Histories_.

Ben looked vaguely put off, Radhika was completely disgusted, but Teddy was grinning in delight.

Nearly Headless Nick returned his head to its more conventional position. ‘As I was saying,’ he said painstakingly, ‘I am the resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower, so don’t be afraid to say hello if you see me in the school, and of course I’d be more than willing to help direct you, should you become lost.’

‘Thank you, Sir Nicholas,’ Amy said on behalf of the first years, who were still too stunned to answer.

Nearly Headless Nick descended through the table and disappeared into the floor, leaving silence in his wake.

‘So, what sort of magic are you most looking forward to learning?’ Amy asked.

* * *

Eventually, once the students were full to bursting, the remnants of dessert faded from the plates, and the students’ attention returned to the headmistress.

‘You’ve had a long journey here today, and now a rather large meal, so I’m sure many of you are feeling rather ready for bed,’ she said, with a wry smile.

Purity suddenly realised just how tired she was.

‘But I’m afraid that I do have a few notices to deliver before I dismiss you to your Common Rooms. First, the academic staff has again grown; would you please welcome our new Transfiguration teacher, Dr. Ghosh.’

Dr. Ghosh stood from her seat on the high table and waved in acknowledgement of the polite applause from the students.

‘On a sadder note,’ the headmistress said, our long-serving caretaker, Mr. Filch, sadly passed away over the summer.’

There was a single, solitary, whoop of joy from further along the Gryffindor table.

The headmistress’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘Thank you, Mr. Brown,’ she said angrily, ‘you will be amongst the first to meet his successor, Mr. Johnson, in a week of detentions.’

The noises of protest, presumably from Brown, were quickly silenced by another glare from the headmistress.

‘Well, that will be all. Prefects, kindly lead your houses to their Common Rooms.’

‘Let’s just wait for a moment,’ Amy said to the Gryffindor first-years. ‘Let the other prefects let the others in, and so we don’t get caught up in the rush.’

There was indeed a rush, and a great din of benches scraping on the stone floor, as the older students filed out of the Great Hall, presumably to their house Common Rooms.

Once most of the students had left, Amy said, ‘Right, let’s go.’ The first-years stood and followed Amy from the Great Hall, across the Entrance Hall, and towards the marble staircase.

Once they’d reached the top of the staircase, Amy led them through a bewildering maze of staircases and corridors. Purity was completely lost. The portraits that covered the walls kept moving and talking, and Purity was too busy trying to catch snippets of the conversations to pay attention to where they were going. Eventually, they reached a portrait of a fat lady in fussy pink dress.

‘This is the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room,’ Amy said to the first-years. ‘To get in, you need to say the password. Make sure you remember it, otherwise you’ll have to wait for someone else to let you in.’ She turned to the portrait. ‘Flitterbloom,’ she said, and the portrait swung forwards, as though on hinges. Behind it, there was a small hole in the wall.

Amy crawled through it. Teddy followed, and then Purity. As Radhika crawled through the hole behind her, Purity looked at the room they’d just entered: it was warm and cosy, stuffed with plump armchairs, and a crackling fire in the fireplace. The whole room was decorated in red and gold hangings.

‘Welcome to the Gryffindor Common Room,’ Amy said, once Ben had followed Radhika. ‘This is where you can relax between lessons, and it’s a good place to do homework if you don’t want Madam Pince breathing down your neck—she’s the librarian. Anyway, the stairs up to the dormitories are over there: girls on the left; boys on the right. Get a good night’s rest; you’ll need it in the morning!’

They thanked Amy, and then went their separate ways. Purity followed Radhika up the spiral staircase. There were doors set into the walls, with signs next to them informing them whose dormitories they were passing. After a few turns around the spiral, they reached the door labelled ‘First Years’, and opened it.

The room was clearly in one of the castle’s towers. It contained two four-poster beds, each with scarlet hangings. Their trunks were sitting at the foot of their beds.

The two witches were two exhausted to even speak to each other; they simply changed into their pyjamas, crawled into bed, and immediately fell asleep.


	6. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Purity awoke the next morning, and was initially confused by the complete darkness. Her bedroom in Morecambe was rarely this dark; the light used to leak in through the gap between the wall and the curtain.

She reached out in the darkness and grabbed at the hangings on her bed. She pulled them open and let the light flood in.

Purity blinked at the sudden light. It was only now that she remembered where she was—Hogwarts! It was her first day of classes. Was she late? She jumped out of bed.

Radhika was startled by Purity’s sudden emergence into the dormitory, and made a rather indistinct noise.

‘Sorry,’ Purity said. ‘What time is it? Are we late?’

Radhika shook her head. ‘It’s seven; we’ve got plenty of time.’

Purity nodded. ‘Well, we should probably get ready.’

* * *

Half an hour later, the two girls were showered and dressed in their school uniform robes, ready for the day ahead, whatever it may bring. They descended the spiral staircase, and emerged into the Common Room. Teddy was already waiting for them.

As soon as Teddy saw Purity and Radhika, he jumped up. ‘Ready to go down for breakfast?’ he asked excitedly. ‘Ben’ll be down in a moment.’

Purity nodded in acknowledgement. The silence spun out for a few moments.

A huddle of girls who looked only a little older than the first-years—second-years, Purity thought—was sitting a few metres away from them, whispering excitedly to each other.

Suddenly, most of the second-year girls looked over to Teddy. ‘Are you Teddy Lupin?’ one of them asked.

Teddy frowned. ‘Yes,’ he said.

The second-year girls erupted into a fit of giggles, and returned to their tight huddle.

Before Purity or Radhika could ask Teddy what had just happened, Ben came down the stairs from the boys’ dormitory.

‘Why do we have to be up so early?’ Ben grumbled. ‘Lessons don’t start for an hour—how long is it going to take us to eat breakfast?’

‘It’s not the eating that’s difficult,’ Teddy said, ‘it’s the finding our way back to the Great Hall.’

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the four Gryffindor first years were seated at their house table, eating breakfast. There wasn’t quite the diversity of food that had been laid on last night, but there was still a lot more than Angela had whipped up, even for the special breakfast on Christmas morning.

Purity was just tucking into a plate of fried eggs, bacon, and buttered toast, when one of the teachers approached the first-years. She had short, curly auburn hair, and a round and kind face.

‘Hello,’ she said, ‘I’m Dr. Maclean; I’m the Gryffindor Head of House and a teacher in the Charms department.’

‘Good morning, Miss,’ Ben said cheerfully. The other first-years swallowed their current mouthfuls of breakfast and echoed Ben’s greeting.

‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘and I hope that all of you have a good morning, too. I’ve just popped down to give you your timetables.’ She started to hand them out, but continued to speak. ‘Because your year is so small, you’re all in the one class together. Your first lesson this morning is Charms with Dr. Sewell. Anyway, I won’t keep you—if you need to see me, my office is on the Charms corridor, but otherwise, have a good day!’

Dr. Maclean returned to the high table, and the Gryffindor first-years pored over their timetables. First period, they had Charms with Dr. Sewell, just as Dr. Maclean had said, followed by History of Magic, with Dr. Richardson. After break, they had Defence Against the Dark Arts with Dr. Dawlish, then lunch. In the afternoon, they had Transfiguration with Dr. Ghosh, and then the school day ended with Potions with Professor Slughorn.

‘I suppose we’d better finish eating quickly,’ Radhika said, ‘so we can get our things for Charms and History of Magic.’

Purity, Teddy and Ben agreed.

* * *

The four Gryffindor first-years made it to their Charms classroom just as the clocks ticked over to half past eight. They’d just joined the queue of the twelve other first-years when Dr. Sewell opened the classroom door and poked her head out.

‘Come in and stand quietly behind your desks,’ she said.

The classroom was arranged like an old-fashioned lecture theatre: curved terraces of long desks, all facing a single lectern. Dr. Sewell hadn’t told them where to sit, so they chose their own places. The Gryffindors somehow ended up together in the back row.

‘Thank you,’ Dr. Sewell said, as soon as they were silent, ‘have a seat.’ She took the register quickly—it would have been difficult to do it slowly, with just sixteen students—and then gazed up at them from the lectern.

‘There are many different kinds of magic,’ Dr. Sewell said, ‘but the one that most readily comes to mind is wandwork. The two main kinds of wandwork are Transfiguration—changing the essence of an object—and Charms—changing the behaviour of an object. In Charms, we learn how to make things _do_ things, and how to change how they interact with other things. We’re going to start by making things _move_.’

The first-years spent the next twenty minutes taking complicated notes on intentions, visualisations, and incantations, and sketching diagrams on wand movements. It was more difficult than it would ordinarily have been, because it was Purity’s first experience of writing with a quill and bottled ink.

Eventually, Dr. Sewell seemed to think that they’d done enough theory, and so had earned the right to practise what they’d learnt. With a wave of her wand, a pebble appeared on the desks in front of each student. ‘See if you can move the pebble across the surface of the desk,’ Dr. Sewell instructed.

The room was suddenly filled with the soft rustling of robes as the first-years swished and flicked their wands, overlaid with the nervous murmuring of, ‘ _Locomotor pebble_.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Dr. Sewell said cheerfully, wandering around the room, correcting wand movements. ‘This is the first time you’ve ever tried to focus your magical power, I imagine, so it will take some time.’

Teddy was concentrating so hard that his hair turned an intense navy blue. ‘You’re gripping your wand too tightly,’ Dr. Sewell said. ‘Take a deep breath, and then try to let the magic flow through the wand. Don’t try to force it.’

Teddy did as he was instructed, and his hair returned to its natural light brown colour. _‘Locomotor pebble,’_ he said, swishing and flicking his wand. The pebble remained stationary. He sighed.

There was a soft _thwack_ sound from across the room, followed by Sarah Nye excitedly saying, ‘Miss! Miss! I did it!’

As Dr. Sewell hurried over to see, William Yang patiently explained, ‘No you didn’t, Sarah, you accidentally flicked it with the end of your wand.’

Melanie Hassell laughed, and then tried again on her own pebble. There was the unmistakable sound of a pebble sliding across a wooden desktop.

‘Aha! Well done, Melanie!’ Dr. Sewell exclaimed. ‘One point to Ravenclaw! See, it can be done; let’s see how many of the rest of you can get this working by the end of the lesson.’

* * *

Purity wasn’t in an especially good mood as they packed up at the end of the lesson. Purity had only been able to make her pebble wobble on the desk, while most of the other first-years had managed to get a smooth movement at least once.

‘Don’t worry,’ Ben said bracingly, ‘it’s only the first lesson, right?’

Purity made a sort of _harrumph_ as Dr. Sewell dismissed them.

‘That was a lot more complicated than I was expecting,’ Radhika said as they left the classroom. ‘Right, History of Magic. Where’s that?’ She looked to Teddy.

Teddy shrugged. ‘I don’t know everything,’ he said.

Radhika opened her mouth as if to retort, but then looked a little chastised. ‘Um, this way, maybe?’ she asked.

* * *

They were a few minutes late to History of Magic, but Dr. Richardson didn’t seem to mind. ‘Come in, come in,’ he said, waving them in. ‘It’s your first day, of course you’re going to get lost. You’re not the last ones!’

Dr. Richardson was tall, and his nose was bent slightly. Purity thought he looked like someone she’d seen on the telly, but she couldn’t quite place him.

Dr. Richardson’s classroom was old-fashioned, with individual wooden desks in a neat grid. Again, the Gryffindors made their way to the back row.

The four Slytherins arrived at the door. ‘Sorry we’re late, sir,’ they chorused, and Dr. Richardson waved them in.

Once Dr. Richardson had taken the register, he, too, started the lesson with a speech. ‘I’m sure that when you received your invitation to come to Hogwarts, History was one of the subjects that you didn’t expect,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘But History is important. The past gives rise to the present: by understanding the past, we understand why the world is as it is. Studying the History of Magic enables to understand how the magic we use has been used by others, but it does something much more: it guides the decisions we make, not as wizards or witches, but as _people_.

‘Ordinarily, we would teach this course in chronological order, beginning from the earliest known wizards, but instead, we will be starting with the most recent Magical History, and delaying the earliest history until your second year. The most recent decades of Magical History cast a long shadow over us, and are the greatest determinants of the world in which we now live. Your textbooks are titled, _A Tale of Four Orphans_ , and subtitled, “The Official History of the Wars Against Voldemort”.

‘Voldemort is a difficult topic at the best of times. One would be hard pressed to find a witch or wizard who did not lose kith or kin in the wars he waged here in Britain. But there is evidence enough of the destruction he wrought here in this classroom right now.’

The first-years looked around themselves in confusion—what destruction could Dr. Richardson mean?

Dr. Richardson smiled indulgently at their befuddlement. ‘Your year group is just one tenth the size of most year groups that pass through this school. And—most crucially—almost all of you were born to Muggle families. There were just—just one child born to magical parents in Britain in the year you were born.’

Purity saw Teddy drop his head to stare at his desk out of the corner of her eye, and turned to look at him. _Just Teddy?_

‘You were born in the darkest and most desperate days of the war,’ Dr. Richardson said. ‘You are the last of the War Children.’

Having made this rather dramatic speech, Dr. Richardson directed the first-years to get out parchment and quills, and to ready themselves to take notes. He then began to tell them of the founding of Hogwarts—more than a thousand years ago, which confused Purity, because how could that affect something that happened just eleven years ago?—but he told the story so well that she couldn’t help but to be captivated. He bewitched a piece of chalk to jot down important points on the chalkboard for the first-years to copy down, and stopped telling the stories of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin only to direct one of the first-years to read aloud a passage from the textbook. Purity was so captivated by hearing about Salazar Slytherin’s narrow escape from Muggles who killed his family in Spain and his arrival in Bishop’s Lynn in Norfolk—or King’s Lynn, as it was now called—and how this led to his dislike of Muggleborn Godric Gryffindor that she felt that the lesson had only just begun when Dr. Richardson told them it was time to pack up.

‘That was pretty intense,’ Purity said as they headed out into the corridor. ‘Good, though,’ she added.

‘So, you’re the only non-Muggleborn in our class,’ Ben said, mainly to Teddy. ‘That must be a bit strange.’

‘Yeah,’ Teddy said, ‘but at least no one knows who I am.’

Purity pondered this as the four Gryffindor first-years made their way back up through the castle to Gryffindor Tower. Every now and then, one of the older students would subtly point out Teddy to their friends. Was he famous?

Once they were in the Gryffindor Common Room, they decided to just sit and wait until it was time to go to Defence Against the Dark Arts.

‘So, um, Teddy,’ Purity said nervously, ‘we don’t have to talk about this, if you don’t want to, but I was just wondering, well. . .’ She summoned her courage. ‘Dr. Richardson was talking about that war that happened when we born, and um, last night, before the Sorting. . .’ Purity found herself unable to continue.

‘Last night I said that my parents died at Hogwarts,’ Teddy finished.

Purity nodded. Ben and Radhika listened apprehensively.

Teddy closed his eyes. ‘The second war ended here, at Hogwarts. Voldemort’s followers, the Death Eaters, laid siege to the castle. My parents were part of the Order of the Phoenix—they were fighting against the Death Eaters. They came to defend the castle, and well, they were killed.’

Purity didn’t know what to say.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Radhika said.

Ben nodded contritely. ‘Is that why everyone stares at you?’ he asked.

Teddy shook his head. ‘My godfather is, well, I’ve always called him Harry, but to most people, he’s Lord Potter now. He defeated Voldemort in a duel down in the Great Hall. He’s pretty much the most famous wizard alive right now, so. . .’ He looked over at the clock on the mantlepiece above the fireplace. ‘We should get going to Defence,’ he said. ‘I hear Dawlish is rubbish.’

* * *

Dr. Dawlish’s opinion of Teddy mirrored Teddy’s opinion of him. As he read through the register, he paused when he reached Teddy’s name, and sneered slightly as he read it out. When he had finished, Ben whispered to Teddy, ‘What’s his problem?’

But before Teddy could answer, Dr. Dawlish had finished fumbling with the register, and was starting to ask questions. ‘We’re here to study Defence Against the Dark Arts. Does anyone know what the Dark Arts are?’ he barked.

There was silence. For a few moments, no one moved. Teddy raised his hand tentatively.

‘Lupin?’ Dr. Dawlish asked.

‘Magic that causes harm?’ Teddy offered.

‘Yes, I could see why you might think that,’ Dr. Dawlish said. ‘But the Dark Arts are much more than that. The Dark Arts are any magic that can hurt someone, that can control them, that can cause them pain.’

‘So, magic that causes harm,’ Radhika muttered under her breath.

Ben stifled a snigger.

‘Is something funny?’ Dr. Dawlish demanded of him.

Ben quickly adopted a serious facial expression. ‘No, sir,’ he said.

‘I should think not,’ Dr. Dawlish said, placing his thumbs in the lapels of his robes and starting to pace around the room. ‘The Dark Arts are a very serious matter indeed. We must be prepared to defend ourselves from those who would hurt us at any time!’ He paused, seemingly having worked himself up to a point with nowhere to go. ‘Right! Get your textbooks out, and open them to page five.’

They spent the rest of the lesson reading an excruciating section of the book on definitions of the Dark Arts, and answering questions from the book.

* * *

‘You were right, Teddy,’ Radhika burst out as soon as they were out of earshot from Dr. Dawlish’s classroom door. ‘He was rubbish. I wonder what’s for lunch.’

‘Yeah, it sounds like the sort of subject that could be really interesting,’ Ben added. ‘Defending yourself, fighting evil wizards. . .’

‘Hmm,’ Teddy said, as they turned at the end of the corridor to head down a flight of stairs. ‘I think he used to be an Auror, but maybe something happened during the war.’

‘What’s an Auror?’ Ben asked.

‘They’re like the magical police,’ Purity said, recalling Teddy’s explanation from the train ride yesterday. ‘They catch Dark wizards.’

‘Really?’ Radhika asked incredulously. ‘I can’t imagine him being good at that. He didn’t seem to know what he was talking about.’

Teddy shrugged. ‘I’m not sure, it’s something I think I overheard years ago. Anyway, I’m starving.’

Lunch, it transpired, was rather a good spread: a variety of sliced breads, cold meats and other fillings for making sandwiches, and a selection of hot lunches too.

‘So that’s three lessons down,’ Ben said, ladling himself a bowl of tomato soup. ‘Which one was best, do you think?’

‘Charms,’ Radhika answered immediately. ‘Hands down.’

‘Yep, Charms,’ Teddy said around a mouthful of club sandwich.

‘Actually, I liked History better,’ Purity said. ‘Dr. Richardson was really into it.’

‘He was good,’ Ben said, ‘but we didn’t get to do any magic, did we? What do we have next?’

‘Let me check,’ Purity said, glad for the opportunity to get away from happened, and started to rummage in her bag for her timetable. ‘Here we are,’ she said. ‘Transfiguration next, then Potions.’

‘Not for a while, though,’ Radhika said. ‘What do you want to do until then?’

‘We could go exploring,’ Teddy suggested. ‘The castle is massive, and it’s full of secret passages.’

‘Are we allowed to do that?’ Radhika asked.

‘We’re Gryffindors,’ Teddy said. ‘It doesn’t matter whether we’re _allowed_ —we go and do it anyway!’

‘Really?’ Purity asked.

‘Yeah, Harry has loads of stories,’ Teddy said excitedly. ‘Like discovering the Chamber of Secrets, or the secret passages into Hogsmeade, or fighting the troll. . .’

‘Fighting a troll?’ Ben asked. ‘In a school?’

‘One of the teachers let it in as a distraction,’ Teddy said by way of explanation. ‘He was working for Voldemort.’

The silence spun out. This whole war business was sounding very complicated.

* * *

The Gryffindor first-years did end up wandering the castle corridors in the remainder of their lunch hour. Teddy seemed very keen to be discovering _something_ , but he didn’t seem to know _what_ it was. Purity was more interested in looking at the portraits they passed. Some of them even spoke to her!

Eventually, they decided that it was time to go to Transfiguration, and so made their way to Dr. Ghosh’s classroom. They arrived a few minutes early, but when Dr. Ghosh let them into the classroom, Purity was surprised to see the headmistress sitting at one of the desks in the back corner of the room. In their past three lessons, the Gryffindors had sat at the back of the room, but this made Purity a little wary.

Teddy, on the other hand, made a beeline for the headmistress. ‘Hello, Professor McGonagall,’ he said cheerily.

‘Good afternoon, Mr. Lupin,’ Professor McGonagall said with a slight smile. ‘But this is Dr. Ghosh’s lesson, so we ought to listen to him.’

Dr. Ghosh started the lesson much as Dr. Sewell had: taking the register, then explaining some bewildering theory about the appearances of objects. Once the first-years had copied down the important points, Dr. Ghosh distributed some matchsticks so they could try to Transfigure them into needles.

For the second time that day, Purity found herself imagining something, waving her wand, saying some gibberish, and nothing happening. No matter how many times she tried, the matchstick remained a slim sliver of wood.

Purity found herself starting to panic. Had Dr. Longbottom made a mistake? Was she _really_ a witch? All that magic she’d supposedly done back in Morecambe—could they all have been coincidences?

If there _had_ been a mistake, she couldn’t let anyone find out, could she? She’d have to leave Hogwarts, and go back to Morecambe. Not that she didn’t like Morecambe, but how could she face the other girls—face Angela?

She looked over at Ben’s desk. Ben’s matchstick was now much thinner and pointier, but it was still made of wood. She looked to her other side, and saw that Radhika’s matchstick was just the same as Purity’s.

Her heart slowed down, but Purity still wasn’t sure. Dr. Ghosh wandered through the room, just as Dr. Sewell had, checking on the first-years’ work and giving advice. There were more students who couldn’t get anything to happen than in Charms, but Purity was amongst them still. At the end of the lesson, Dr. Ghosh cheerily dismissed them. As the first-years left, Professor McGonagall went to talk to Dr. Ghosh.

‘Potions next,’ Ben said cheerily. ‘I wonder what we’ll be making?’

Radhika and Teddy began to speculate with Ben what might happen in Potions. None of them noticed Purity’s despondency at her dismal performance in both Charms and Transfiguration. She simply followed them in silence as they headed down towards the castle’s dungeons. It was cold and damp down here, and Purity wondered what sort of teacher would work in such conditions: she expected Professor Slughorn to be somewhat oily himself, and perhaps dressed all in black.

On the contrary, Professor Slughorn turned out to be rotund and jovial, dressed in brightly-coloured robes. He welcomed them warmly into his classroom, which was warmer and dryer than its surrounds. Once he’d taken the register, he, too, began with a little speech.

‘Welcome to the world of Potions,’ he said. ‘Here, there will be no need for wand-waving or incantations; rather, you will need simply judgment, care and patience to manufacture success. The art of Potion-brewing is a subtle one, but no less powerful than any other form of magic.’

Purity felt reassured by this. Perhaps she would be good at this subject.

Professor Slughorn waved his wand, and a piece of chalk immediately set to work writing up a set of instructions on the chalkboard. Thankful that there were no complicated notes to copy and be befuddled by, Purity set up her cauldron and joined the scrum of first-years collecting ingredients from the store cupboard.

Most of the ingredients were rather horrible and slimy, but enthused by the idea of succeeding at _something_ magical, Purity immediately set to slicing up flobberworms and dicing gurdyroots—whatever they were—so that she could brew the best Strengthening Solution in the class. She filled up her cauldron from the tap at the side of the classroom, and returned to her desk, to see that Professor Slughorn had stopped to talk to Teddy.

‘. . .just a small gathering, you know,’ Professor Slughorn was saying, as Purity heaved her now-full cauldron to her desk.

‘Excuse me, Professor,’ she said—whatever it was that Professor Slughorn was telling Teddy didn’t seem to have much to do with the lesosn. ‘Could you light a fire under my cauldron, please?’

Professor Slughorn looked a little put out, but said, ‘Yes, of course, Miss, um, Carrow,’ and pointed his wand at the space underneath Purity’s cauldron, where a few flames suddenly appeared and began to dance. ‘Anyway,’ he said, turning his attention back to Teddy, ‘do give it a thought.’ He then left to deal with all the other first-years asking for fires under their cauldrons too.

‘Thanks,’ Teddy muttered to Purity as soon as Professor Slughorn was out of earshot, ‘he was driving me up the wall.’

Purity started to add her flobberworms to her cauldron. ‘What was he talking about?’ she muttered back.

‘I’ll tell you later,’ Teddy murmured conspirationally. It was a promise, not a dismissal.

There was a loud _bang_ from across the room. Purity and Teddy turned and saw that Emily Potter’s potion had exploded: it was all over Emily and Abigail Muir, and there was some dripping from the dungeon ceiling too.

‘Don’t panic!’ Professor Slughorn said, walking over calmly. ‘I expect you added the squid instead of the flobberworms first. It’s easy to make that mistake if you aren’t familiar with the ingredients.’ He waved his wand and the potion disappeared. Emily and Abigail seemed to be completely unharmed. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to dice up some more quid, but apart from that, you should be clear to try again!’ he added cheerfully.

Purity remembered that she should be stirring her own potion, and began to do so.

It was difficult work, stirring the potion the right number of times in the right direction, preparing the right quantity of the right ingredients in the right way, adding them at the right time, but when Professor Slughorn said, ‘That’s time; I’m coming ’round to check your potions now,’ Purity thought she’d done well.

Professor Slughorn moved slowly through the room, peering into cauldrons, sniffing fumes, and passing judgment on each. Purity’s nervousness only grew as he progressed from student to students; the fact that she couldn’t hear the comments he made only made it worse.

Professor Slughorn arrived at Teddy, and looked into his cauldron. He grimaced. ‘It looks like you didn’t quite slice the flobberworms finely enough,’ he said, ‘but a good first attempt.’ He moved on to Purity’s cauldron. He paused. ‘It’s certainly colourless,’ he said, ‘and of the correct consistency.’ He sniffed. ‘Yes, yes, that’s it. Well done, Miss Carrow,’ he smiled at her, and moved on to Radhika.

Purity let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. _She’d done well at something! She was a witch!_

* * *

Their lessons for the day completed, the four Gryffindor first-years sat in their common room, writing letters home. Purity was using a ball-point pen and ordinary writing paper, but the others were using quills and parchment.

‘What’s that?’ Teddy asked, staring at the pen.

‘It’s a pen,’ Purity explained. ‘Haven’t you seen a pen before?’

Teddy shook his head. ‘Where’s the ink?’

Purity held the pen up, so that Teddy could see the small plastic tube inside. ‘In there,’ she said.

‘Weird,’ Teddy said. ‘How do you get the ink in there?’

‘You don’t,’ Purity said. ‘When they run out, your just throw them away and get another one. They’re really cheap.’

Teddy didn’t seem convinced. ‘You were using a quill before,’ he observed.

‘Yeah, but no one at home knows about magic,’ Purity explained. ‘I have to pretend that I got a scholarship to a fancy boarding school.’

‘You can’t tell your f—you can’t tell the people you live with about magic?’ Radhika asked. ‘That must be tough.’

Purity nodded. ‘I’m not sure how I managed to keep it a secret, but I did.’

Silence fell over them as they turned back to their letters. Purity read over hers.

> Dear Angela,
> 
> Hogwarts is amazing! The school is inside a medieval castle, with all sorts of secret passageways to explore and suits of armour in the corridors.
> 
> There are four houses, called Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin, after the founders of the school. I’m in Gryffindor, we’re supposed to be really brave. Our dormitory is in a tower—we can see across the mountains from our windows!
> 
> I’ve made friends with three other Gryffindors: Teddy Lupin, Radhika Singh, and Ben Peterson. Teddy’s whole family went to Hogwarts, so he knows lots of secrets about the school. Ben and Radhika are nice, which is good, because I have to share a dormitory with Radhika.
> 
> The lessons have been hard, but I did well in Science today.
> 
> I hope everyone in Morecambe is well.
> 
> Love,  
>  Purity

Purity thought it was good, so she folded up the paper, and placed it in an envelope. She wrote the address of the children’s home on the front of the envelope, sealed the envelope, and put a second class stamp in the corner.

Once the others had finished writing their letters, they walked over to the Owlery together.

‘So, how does this work, then?’ Ben asked. ‘How do we tell the owls where to go?’

‘They just know,’ Teddy said as Archie landed on his shoulder. ‘You just give your letter to the owl’—to demonstrate, he tied the two letters he’d written to Archie’s leg—‘and they go off and deliver it for you.’

Archie spread his wings and took off, flying through one of the enormous windows and disappearing into the clear blue sky.

‘Right,’ Radhika said, turning slowly on the spot, looking up at the countless owls perched on the rafters. ‘I need to send this to Manchester.’

One of the owls fluttered down to her shoulder. She raised a shaking hand to the owl. The owl held out a leg to her. Radhika seemed reassured by this, and tied her letter to the owl’s leg. The owl spread its wings and followed Archie into the sky.

Soon, Ben and Purity had sent their letters off too: Ben’s to Bath, and Purity’s to the Hogsmeade Post Office, where it would be transferred to the Royal Mail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Richardson. Basically Stephen Fry.
> 
> Dr. Ghosh. The magical world has no universities; all occupations are learned by apprenticeship. Teaching is no exception, and so Minerva McGonagall is observing his teaching to help him learn his craft.
> 
> John Dawlish. Employed as an Auror by nepotism rather than aptitude, Dawlish is repeatedly shown in the novels to not be up to the job. When the Ministry of Magic fell to the Death Eaters, Dawlish failed to notice any difference, and continued to carry out his duties in his customary ineffectual manner. At the end of the war, he was not charged with any crime, not actually having done anything, but was pushed out of the Corps of Aurors. While Voldemort's jinx on the Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts position was extinguished along with its perpetrator, speculation remained, and so Dawlish was the only applicant for the job. His continued survival after three years was generally considered to be proof that whatever previously ailed the job was gone, and Dawlish was quickly demoted to an ordinary teacher, and replaced in his managerial duties by a competent successor.
> 
> Horace Slughorn. When he is first introduced, he makes it very clear to Dumbledore that he feels that he is retired; it is implied that he is returning to Hogwarts only for the protection offered by proximity to Dumbledore. It would make sense for him to return to retirement after the war, and reap the rewards of the numerous connections he made as a teacher. But the end of the war brings a great deal of change to magical Britain, and Slughorn's old friends are the powerful and privileged of a bygone era. He remains in his post at Hogwarts to cultivate connections with the movers and shakers of a new society.


End file.
